


GII.4

by OMOWatcher



Series: APSHDS Inspired [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: APSHDS, AU, Age Play, Anxiety, Bed-Wetting, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Diarrhea, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Sickfic, Steve Is A Good Daddy, Stomach Ache, Tony Is A Good Uncle, Vomiting, Wetting, alexander pierce should have died slower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMOWatcher/pseuds/OMOWatcher
Summary: Bucky had a bad night's sleep. All he needs is a cuddle and a nap, then he'll be fine. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To Be Unmade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924083) by [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot). 



> Apparently, I'm getting into this fanfic lark again. This fic was initially supposed to be a short one-shot to act as a bit of breathing space before I wrote a second part to my first fic. It's turned into a monster. The good news is that it's all written, so I just have to wait for my amazing beta readers to turn my mess into something coherent before I post it! 
> 
> As before, this fic is inspired by the incredible [Lauralot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot) , and her wonderful series, [Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower](http://archiveofourown.org/series/114886). You really need to have read the origin of that to understand Bucky (seriously, go and read it!) but if you haven't, Bucky, as a result of trauma and torture, slips between several headspaces - one of whom is a child. 
> 
> The story was inspired by a tale told to me by VoiceOfNurse, so please be sure to thank her for the grossness contained within.
> 
> Beta'd by the gorgeous [WhatEvenAmI](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/pseuds/WhatEvenAmI) and the amazing [VoiceOfNurse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiceOfNurse/pseuds/VoiceOfNurse) \- go check out their stuff (including their own wonderful contributions to this brilliant AU)! All mistakes left are down to me.
> 
>  **WARNING:** This story (from chapter 2 onward) contains graphic descriptions of vomiting and (slightly less of) diarrhoea. If you possess a sensitive tummy, or suffer with emetophobia, you probably want back away now. As always, please read the tags carefully. Nothing in here is sexualised, but please be aware of the content before you read on. Thank you!

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. It is currently 7:35am on Saturday 23rd January, the temperature is 27 degrees and the weather is overcast, with snow is falling at a rate of 0.5 inches per hour. You are in your bedroom on floor 87 of the Avengers Tower at 200 Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York City.”

Bucky groaned out loud as JARVIS ran through his morning grounding routine, the one that helped Bucky remember where, and occasionally _who_ , he was. He hadn’t had a restful night. For some reason, he’d been plagued with odd dreams. Not nightmares, really. Not the ones where he woke up panting, his face wet with tears and his pull-up soaked, hoping he hadn’t screamed out loud and disturbed half the tower yet again. Not the kind where he relived all the times his hands had been drenched with the blood of the innocent, or where Steve was still his Mission, only this time he managed to complete it. No... these were just... strange. Off kilter. He’d spent half the time too warm and kicking the blankets off him, only to feel cold almost instantly, and now they were tangled around his knees like a hobble. Somehow Bucky Bear had ended up on the floor, next to the bed. He wasn’t happy, and when Bucky tried to say good morning, he didn’t reply.

After finally untangling himself from the covers, which were doing a remarkably good impression of an octopus sucking onto his legs and not letting go, he stood up, grimacing at the unpleasant squish around his groin. He really, **really** didn’t feel like getting into the shower today, but that would mean missing a star on his chart for his personal care, and so far he had almost the whole week completed, and a full week meant a treat from his list. He’d been really hoping for the new Avengers Lego set that he’d seen in the toy store several weeks ago, and the thought of having to miss out on that for another week was enough to get him shuffling towards the bathroom.

It took him longer than normal to get washed and wrapped up in his bathrobe, as his body just didn’t want to get going. He paused, looking out of the window in his room at the fluffy flakes of snow drifting downwards, coating the surrounding rooftops in a thick, white layer. Maybe that was why he seemed to be on go-slow today; his body was trying to hibernate. Bucky Bear, having obviously decided to end his sulk, reminded him that he wasn’t actually a bear, and that humans didn’t hibernate. Bucky disagreed, however. The memory of the cryostasis tube made him shudder hard, and he shook his head to clear the thoughts. Wandering over to his closet, he pulled down his blue long-sleeved top with the cartoon _T. rex_ skeleton on, and a pair of grey Jogg Jeans. He was just sitting on the floor to pull on his stripey socks when he heard his daddy’s knock on the door. He always knew when it was Daddy. He always knocked the same way - one long, then two short knocks, before calling out his name.

“Bucky?” he called through the door. “Are you up, buddy?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Bucky replied, pushing himself off the floor sluggishly, Bucky Bear in one hand, and walking to open the door to Steve. Steve’s eyes roamed over Bucky’s face and his smile faded to a small frown.

“You okay, Buck? You’re looking a bit off.” he asked.

Bucky’s face was paler than normal, apart from the streaks of colour staining his cheeks. Bucky shrugged half heartedly.

“Bad night?” Steve guessed. Bucky nodded, and let his daddy wrap him in his strong arms for a hug, his big hand stroking the hair at the back of his head. After a minute, Steve pulled away. “C’mon, Buck. Let’s go down to breakfast. Hopefully that will help. And if not, you can always lie down on the couch for a while, okay?”

Bucky sighed and nodded again, following Steve into the elevator. By the time he settled himself down at the common area’s dining table, almost everyone else was already there. He sat Bucky Bear on the table beside his place setting and pushed the honey bottle close enough for him to start osmosing. Somebody had chosen lavender organic honey today rather than his usual blended bottle. Bucky Bear said that it made a nice change, and was very fragrant, but probably a bit too much for every meal. Bucky, meanwhile, glanced around the room at the rest of the people present.

Tony was propped up on his elbows at the worktop next to the coffee machine; he was wearing yesterday’s AC/DC t-shirt, with a stray grease mark still smudged over his left eyebrow and sucking down coffee as if his life depended on it. Tail end of an all-nighter, then. Clint was busy flicking raisins from the cinnamon raisin bagel in front of him at Natasha, while she glared at him with a look that made Bucky’s guts squirm, even though he wasn’t the recipient. Clint, however, just laughed when she rolled her eyes at him in disgust. She didn’t do mornings. Bucky didn’t blame her. Bruce was away. He’d gone off on some secret mission with Thor a few days earlier, and wasn’t due back until the middle of the next week. Unfortunately, nobody could make oatmeal quite as well as Bruce, so that was firmly off the menu until then. It wasn’t until Steve stood directly in his eyeline, his hands closed over the back of the chair at the place opposite, that Bucky looked up at him.

“Pancakes?” he asked, with a quirk of his lips. Bucky paused. Normally there would have been no contest. Pancakes, syrup, and bacon were the best way to start the day. But despite the chill outside, and his daddy offering to make them, Bucky shook his head. He really didn’t fancy them. Steve’s raised eyebrows made Bucky stare down at his hands. He knew he should probably accept because his daddy was offering to make them as a treat, but he didn’t think he could eat them today.

“Sorry, Daddy. Can I just have Cocoa Krispies instead, please?” Bucky asked, his voice barely above a whisper and his eyes not lifting above his daddy’s chest.

“Course you can, Bucky. I’ll bring your smoothie over too, okay?” Steve answered, giving him one last, long look before he raided the cereal cupboard.

“Everything alright, James?” He jumped, looking to his side as Pepper slid into the seat on his left, and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re a bit warm. Are you sick?”

Before Bucky could answer, Daddy slid his Avengers bowl, filled with cereal and milk that was already turning chocolatey, onto the place mat in front of him. His little egg cup of pills sat next to it. “Didn’t sleep too well, did you, Buck?” Steve told her, brushing Bucky’s hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

Bucky shook his head, grimacing as he gulped down his medication, and started to lift the spoon to his mouth mechanically. He wasn’t exactly feeling well, but “sick” was probably stretching it. Really, he just wanted to go and lie down in front of the TV, and maybe have a nap with his head on his daddy’s lap while his daddy ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Reaching for his glass and clasping it in both hands so as not to fumble it, he stuck the red straw into his mouth and sucked. Mango, coconut and honey this morning. It was sweet and fruity, and tasted like sunshine, even though the sky outside was grey and gloomy. When he’d drawn up the last mouthful, he carefully put his glass down and stared at his hands in his lap. His mind started to wander aimlessly, and it wasn’t until Pepper gently put a hand over his metal one that he realised that he’d been worrying at the fabric of his shirt. Steve stood, collecting his and Bucky’s breakfast dishes, and took them over to the dishwasher.

“Want to lie down and watch ‘Sleeping Beauty’?” he asked, and Bucky nodded, pushing his chair back and sliding his hand out from underneath Pepper’s, careful to avoid pinching her in the joints of the metal plates. No matter how often people touched his arm, he still worried that it would hurt them. He wandered, his feet dragging, into the communal lounge, and headed for his favourite couch, the one directly facing the enormous television screen, that - instead of being leather like the others - was made of almost velvety black material. When he rubbed his cheek on the cushion, it was almost like he was burying his face into a full size Bucky Bear. Flopping down, he fell to the side and pulled his knees up to his chest, pulling Bucky Bear into his arms and closed his eyes, half aware of the chatter spilling through from the kitchen. He let himself drift, only blinking his eyes open when he felt hands spreading a blanket over his body.

“Shove up!” Steve said, tucking him in and gesturing at Bucky to lift his head up. He did as he was asked, making a noise of approval in his throat as his daddy sat down by his head, before pulling it into his lap. “JARVIS, could you start playing ‘Sleeping Beauty’ please?” Steve asked.

“Certainly, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replied, and the blinds at the windows automatically shifted to dim the room while the movie began to play on the screen. The soothing touch of Daddy’s fingers carding through Bucky's hair soon had his eyes drifting shut, and even before the fairies started arguing over the colour of her gown, he was snoring gently.

 

~ X ~

 

It was with a sudden jolt that Bucky came back to consciousness, unsure quite what had woken him. Feeling his daddy’s hands start finger combing his hair again, and realising where he was, his heart jumped into his throat as his right hand dropped to the sofa around him, feeling the fabric - and his own jeans over his groin- to make sure they were still dry. It was only when he was sure that his body hadn’t let him down when he had fallen asleep that he let out a shaky breath.

“Okay there, Buck?” his daddy asked, looking down at him. “A bad dream?”

Bucky thought, a frown line forming between his eyes, and shook his head. He hadn’t actually been dreaming at all before he woke, and he still wasn’t sure why he was awake.

“Wassatime?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“It’s just before 10. You’ve not been asleep long.” his daddy replied, and Bucky let his head drop back onto Steve’s powerful thighs, turning over away from the television and burying his face into his daddy’s stomach, his right hand holding onto Bucky Bear while his left tangled in the soft t-shirt covering Steve’s torso. Steve chucked warmly, and pushed Bucky’s hair out of his face and behind his ears, before running his hand over Bucky’s back until Bucky relaxed into him.

“You going back to sleep there, buddy?” he asked, and Bucky nodded against him, making a sound of agreement. “In that case, you should probably go change... just in case, huh?”

Bucky flushed. He knew his daddy was right. If he went back to sleep now, then he’d just end up ruining his favourite sofa, as well as being embarrassed in front of everyone. But he was comfortable and cozy, and absolutely the last thing he felt like doing was moving. He whined softly into his daddy’s front and Steve patted his back, before throwing the blanket back from over Bucky and pulling him into his arms as if he weighed nothing, rather than being the best part of two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and titanium.

“Come on, Buck. The sooner you get changed, the sooner we can settle down again,” Steve said firmly, standing up with Bucky in front of him. Bucky wrapped his legs around his daddy’s hips, and curled his hands into his daddy’s shoulders. He buried his face into the crook of Steve’s neck while he was carried back to the elevator and his own room. As much as he hadn’t wanted to move, being carried by his daddy always made him feel safe, loved, cared for, and he let himself soak in that sensation until they reached his room, and Steve placed him back onto his feet, before giving him a gentle push towards the bathroom. Steve had to bite back a smirk as Bucky grumbled the entire way across the room.

Bucky resented wearing protection to bed at night. Having to do so during the day chafed even more. He knew it was the most sensible plan, he’d already dozed off unintentionally, and he was fairly sure that he would do so again before lunch time. But the frustration of having to wear a pull-up now was still only a fraction of the humiliation he would feel if he went to sleep on the couch and woke up wet. At least, under his Joggs, the extra bulk wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else.

While Bucky was in his bathroom getting changed, he wasn’t aware of Steve deep in thought, his face pensive. It wasn’t like Bucky to be quite this clingy, even when he was tired. He hoped it was just Bucky having an off day. He’d had enough of them himself, after all. When the door re-opened, and Bucky slouched out, Steve reached for him, and slung him back up - onto one hip this time - and Bucky locked his arms around his daddy’s neck. Steve carried him back to settle on the couch. Once settled, JARVIS restarted the movie from the point where Bucky had fallen asleep. Steve tugged the blanket back over Bucky, and rested Bucky's head in his lap again.

It was only when Steve glanced back down after a few minutes that he noticed that, while Bucky Bear was wedged firmly in the crook of his right elbow, Bucky’s left hand had drifted up towards his face and his thumb had found its way into his mouth. Bucky hadn’t sucked his thumb since... well, since the trial. Casually, he pushed Bucky’s hair back from his forehead and let his hand drift across the skin. He was definitely warm, but he couldn’t tell if that was because he was coming down with something, or if he was just snug from being cuddled up on the sofa.

The answer came less than ten minutes later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments, kudos, bookmarks and so on. It's always such a thrill to know that people are enjoying my writing. 
> 
> **Warning!** Here's where it starts getting kinda (or lotsa) gross. There will be much talk of various bodily fluids.

It happened as the drunk lute player snored under the feasting table. Bucky suddenly blinked back to full wakefulness, feeling an overwhelming wave of nausea hit him with no warning at all. His mouth immediately seemed to fill with saliva, and he swallowed convulsively. _No, no, no, can’t throw up, can’t get sick, can’t, can’t, can’t make a mess, can’t be bad, they’ll be mad, not here, not now..._ The thoughts ran through his mind, a never-ending loop of fearful, panicky denial. He scrabbled to sit upright, kicking his legs to free them from the blanket and shoving at Steve to give himself leverage. Steve, startled, caught Bucky’s right bicep and turned him to look at his face.

“Bucky? Bucky, what’s the matter?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting in confusion.

Bucky opened his mouth to answer him, but before he could speak, his insides clenched, his shoulders curled forwards, and, almost silently, a huge gush of thick, brownish-yellow vomit erupted out of this stomach with enough force to mostly miss Bucky’s own clothes; instead, it splattered wetly against Steve’s chest before running down into his lap. Steve froze for a second, as Bucky’s eyes widened in horror, and then Steve was reaching for Bucky Bear, who was still clamped under Bucky’s elbow, and tossing him behind Bucky into the corner of the couch. Immediately his eyes were scanning the room, looking for something, anything, that he could hand to Bucky before he threw up again, but the only trash can was a wire mesh one that would be about as much use as ice cubes in the Arctic right now.

Before Bucky could even think to apologise, his body heaved again, this time just as Steve was reaching for the blanket that had been covering Bucky; he coated Steve’s mostly bare left arm from wrist to shoulder in curdled milk, congealing cereal and pureed fruit. Steve gagged despite himself as the acidic stench filled his nostrils at close quarters, and he bit the inside of his cheek, breathing through his mouth until the urge to spill his own breakfast in response had faded. Meanwhile he tucked the blanket under Bucky’s chin in preparation for the next wave that was sure to come. Sure enough, this time Bucky’s whole body seemed to contract with the force of his retch, dragging a horrible coughing noise from somewhere deep inside him. Daddy was ready, however, the blanket draped over his hands and forearms, and somehow managed to catch the worst of the mess as he held it under Bucky’s mouth.

At some point, JARVIS must have decided to send out an SOS because at that moment, Pepper came flying through the door.

“Steve? What’s happening?” she asked, anxiously. “JARVIS said that James was unwell and you needed hel… Oh!”

The sight before her gave her momentary pause, but then she was promptly in resolution mode. She disappeared into the kitchen area, returning just seconds later with the washing up bowl, a roll of paper towels and a trash bag. She quickly peeled the plastic apart, shaking it open fully, before using her chin to gesture to Steve to drop the soaked blanket into it. As he carefully took the blanket away from Bucky, folding unsoiled edges to help contain the worst and dumping it into the bag, he immediately reached for the bowl and placed it into Bucky’s hands.

Bucky, meanwhile sat there still stunned at his body’s reaction. But as he gagged again, he felt his daddy guiding the bowl up to his chin to catch the next surge of foulness spilling between his lips with a painful choking noise. Bucky barely noticed as Steve carefully stripped off his sodden, soiled shirt and dumped it into the garbage bag with the blanket, or when Pepper handed him a bunch of paper towels to throw across his jeans and wipe off whatever puke remained on his still slowly-dripping arm. But then his daddy’s hands were on his face, gathering his hair and pushing it back out of his face in an attempt to keep it out of the mess, and he was whispering to him, telling him it was okay, and **that** was too much. Bucky’s eyes filled with tears of humiliation, fear, shame, disgust; he still felt like he was about to throw up again at any moment, and he’d got vomit everywhere, and he just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.

Pepper was leaving now, carrying the garbage bag full of Bucky’s shameful display, and his daddy was shushing him and stroking his back, up and down, between his shoulder blades, with one hand while using the other to wipe up the worst of the regurgitated breakfast still soaking into the front of his jeans. Somehow, Bucky had managed to avoid getting pretty much any of his partly digested meal on himself, or Bucky Bear. Thanks to your daddy, Bucky Bear clarified, and Bucky’s face crumpled. Even Bucky Bear knew how much of a disgusting and horrible little boy he was.

“Oh, hey, no, Bucky, don’t cry,” Steve hushed, as Bucky began to sob in earnest. “It’s okay, Buck, I’m not mad, you’re not in any trouble, okay? These things happen, it’s nothing to get upset about, lamb. You can’t help getting sick. Daddy’s here, I’m here, okay? I’ve got you.”

Bucky continued to weep, overwhelmed. When Pepper returned, this time with another trash bag for the paper towels and a damp wash cloth for his neck, he cried harder. He was a terrible little boy, and the last thing he deserved was being looked after. Steve and Pepper shared a worried look over Bucky’s head, and then Steve was standing up, grabbing Bucky with one arm under Bucky’s, the other under his knees, and lifting him against his bare chest. The shift in position caused the nausea to swell inside him once more, and Bucky swallowed again and again, even while he clutched the bowl in one hand as the other tightened around his daddy’s neck. But then Steve was moving, as smoothly, but also as fast, as he could. Bucky screwed his eyes shut against the swaying and rocking, but another rush of saliva told him that he wasn’t going to be able to stop this.

“Daddy! Gonna be sick!” he forced out through gritted teeth and gagged once, uncontrollably, but then Steve was shouldering doors open before finally lowering him to the floor in Bucky’s own bathroom, and guiding him to his knees. Bucky leant over the cool porcelain, coughing and retching, again and again. He felt his daddy gathering his hair back into a loose knot at the base of his skull with one hand, his other hand shifting the cool cloth back against the nape of his neck, then his firm touch smoothing along his spine as he murmured encouragement and reassurance. During one particularly painful, gasping heave, he became aware of a small, but definite, trickle of urine, forced from his body by the sheer strain of his abdominal paroxysms and soaking into his pull-up. A soft whine escaped him, between choking noises, as even more shame percolated through his blood.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Bucky rocked onto his heels and wiped the back of his trembling hand across his mouth, balanced against the sturdy wall of his daddy kneeling behind him. By now, his shirt was drenched in sweat and clinging unpleasantly to his torso, and his hair curled damply around his grey face, sweat beading on his forehead and top lip. Fever was blistering his cheeks, the only dab of colour in his complexion.

“M’sorry, Daddy,” Bucky whimpered, before his teary eyes screwed tightly shut on a moan, and he bent forwards, his hands dropping to cradle his abdomen.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, fighting to keep his concern from showing. If Bucky thought he was worried, then he would just panic and make himself feel worse. “Tell me what’s happening, Buck. Are your muscles sore from throwing up, or have you got cramps?”

“Cramps,” Bucky panted, his mouth twisting as his guts seemed to knot and tangle in his belly. Steve carefully stood to empty and rinse the bowl that was still sitting beside Bucky on the floor. His heart ached as he watched Bucky curling around his arms, which were currently wrapped around his midriff, until his forehead rested against the coolness of the rim of the toilet bowl. After reaching over Bucky’s shoulder and hitting the flush to wash away the contents of the toilet, he set the bowl back down close to Bucky, then filled a glass of water and crouched beside him once more.

“Here, Buck… rinse your mouth out for me, buddy.” he coaxed, helping Bucky to swill the water around his mouth before spitting into the toilet.

“Do you think you can take a sip?” he asked, and Bucky shook his head no. Steve sighed, but didn’t press the matter yet. “Okay, Buck. We’ll try in a bit. But you’ve got to keep drinking, okay?”

Bucky nodded reluctantly. He knew. But nausea still swam in his stomach, even though he seemed to have stopped throwing up for the moment. He didn’t really want to start up again. His throat was burning, his mouth still tasted disgusting and he didn’t even want to swallow his own saliva, but spitting was definitely unacceptable behaviour. His guts felt like they were alive inside him, twisting and turning, and hurting. He just wanted it all to stop.

When the next cramp hit, and his belly gurgled loud enough for both Bucky and Steve to hear, Bucky was instantly scrabbling to his feet, and Steve was right there, holding him as he swayed precariously. The pressure in Bucky's guts ratcheted up, fast and hard, and he realised that he needed to use the toilet immediately. He felt himself blush furiously, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to wait. His hands dropped to his belt, working it loose, and  Bucky whined.

“Daddy! Gotta go. Please… Go… Now!”  he struggled to explain, imploring with his eyes. Somehow Steve managed to grasp his message, and backed towards the door in one big stride.

“I’ll be outside. Just shout if you need me.” he said, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him as he left.

Bucky almost sobbed in relief as the bathroom door closed, finally getting the leather free from the buckle and shoving his pants and pull-up down his thighs just in time. His guts clenched and emptied in a horrible, loose rush, each gnawing cramp followed by yet another torrent. After the third or fourth time, the nausea had returned with a vengeance, and Bucky moaned, reaching to drag the bowl up onto his lap.

Unable to bear swallowing the spittle once more pooling under his tongue, he hung his head, letting it dribble into the bowl and waiting. It only took a moment before he was heaving again, his entire body contracting in the effort to expel whatever might still be left to throw up. He sucked in pained breaths, between each burning wave, coughing and groaning, his guts spasming and evacuating uncontrollably while he continued to choke up the remnants of his meal and, when that was done, the mucus lining of the stomach itself.

Tears squeezed between his screwed up eyelids under the exertion of his body cleansing itself, and in his utter misery he couldn’t keep himself from dissolving into noisy tears. Bucky Bear was who knew where. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t managed to contaminate him with his regurgitated stomach contents. He was embarrassed. He was disgusting, and revolting, and stank. But right now he was hurting, he felt so very sick to his stomach; he felt so bad, and wanted his daddy so much, that he just didn’t care enough to be ashamed, and so he called out.

“Daddy! Daddy!”


	3. Chapter 3

Steve hadn’t waited to see if Bucky responded when he left the bathroom. Instead, he walked over to Bucky’s bed, rubbing his hands together nervously. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Bucky this sick, not even before the war. Unfortunately, his super soldier hearing meant that he could tell precisely how ill Bucky was, even when he was in the next room, and his heart ached for him.

He honestly had no idea how he was going to prevent Bucky from dehydrating, considering how much fluid he’d already lost in the last twenty minutes. And it just had to be a day that Bruce was away, so he couldn’t even ask his advice. Bucky, of course, would fight tooth and nail if Steve tried to take him to Urgent Care or the E.R. - energy that he couldn’t afford to waste right now.  He racked his brains for a solution, cringing at the groans that seeped through the bathroom door. At that moment, there was an interruption from JARVIS.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers, but Ms Potts is outside the door and asking if you can spare a moment.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve answered, and headed over to open the door and to slip into the hall. He left the door open a crack, so that he could still hear if Bucky shouted for him, or fell.

Pepper was standing there, holding a pair of his sweatpants and a clean t-shirt, with Bucky Bear perched on top. She must have raided his locker at the gym downstairs. Thankfully, these were freshly laundered and, as yet, unworn. His heart swelled at her kindness, and he smiled wanly as she passed the bundle over. He tucked everything under his arm.

“I thought you could do with these,” she explained, glancing at the cracked door, her concern evident. “How is he?”

Steve let out a frustrated breath through his nose before answering.

“Not good. I’ve never seen him like this. Not even before the war. I wish Bruce was here to look him over.”

Pepper made a concerned noise, her brow wrinkling as she thought.

“How about that friend he made when Clint was in the hospital...you know, the nurse?” she asked. Steve’s face cleared like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

“Maggie, yes! Of course, I’ll get her number from Bucky. I’m such an idiot; why didn’t I think about that?” he chided himself. Pepper took his hands and squeezed them.

“Because you’re worrying too much to think completely straight right now, Steve. You’re not even concentrating on our conversation completely, because you’ve got an ear listening out for him!” Steve started to apologise, but Pepper simply waved him off. “Go. Get changed out of those jeans and be sure to give Maggie a call when you have Bucky settled a bit.”

Steve returned the hand squeeze in thanks, and slipped back into the room, quickly shucking out of his soiled jeans and replacing them with the sweatpants and clean tee. He’d just finished when he heard Bucky call his name, and his heart clenched. He was at the door in two strides, and pushing it open a moment later.

It only took a fraction of a second for Steve to assess the situation. Bucky sat, crying, shivering miserably from fever glowing through his face, finally dry heaving as though his insides were tearing themselves apart, with his cheeks tear-stained.

“Oh, Buck...” he crooned, crossing the room and enveloping Bucky into his arms. Bucky let his face tuck into his daddy’s shoulder. He couldn’t even entirely care when his guts decided to expel what felt like another quart of liquid while his daddy held him. Steve winced in sympathy, raising one hand to pet the back of Bucky’s head while the other dropped to slide underneath Bucky’s damp shirt and gently, tenderly stroke across his abdomen.

Bucky’s muscles jumped underneath his daddy’s fingers. Even that light touch sent a new wave of pain roaring through his tummy and he whimpered into his daddy’s neck. The gentle, soothing noises that his daddy dropped against his ear brought him a crumb of comfort, and he tried to follow the rumbled instruction to relax, leaning against his chest, while that hand kept gently stroking over his midsection. Slowly, gradually, his spasmed abdominal muscles started to loosen up, and Bucky sighed as a fraction of the awful pain eased up. His guts still roiled and burbled dangerously, and he knew that there was no way he was going far from the bathroom any time soon, but for now, it seemed, the cramping appeared to have been dialled back a notch.

His stomach still felt like any movement would make him puke all over again, but he was starting to shake hard enough from the fever for his teeth to rattle, his head was aching like he was hung over, on top of his previous exhaustion. Besides, even with JARVIS’s amazing fans and air ducts, the smell in the bathroom was really starting to get to him. He felt himself flushing with mortification as the last few minutes replayed in his head. _Daddy was here. Holding me when..._ Bucky screwed his eyes up and pushed his face even deeper into his daddy’s shoulder.

Steve turned his head to look down at Bucky, who seemed to be trying to burrow into his trapezius. The tips of his ears were scarlet, peeking out from his sweat-damp hair, which Steve instantly recognised. Even Before, when Bucky rarely showed any kind of embarrassment and instead hid it in a self-deprecating joke, his ears had always given him away. He hugged him tighter for a moment, in lieu of words, before pulling away to look at him. Bucky kept his eyes pointed somewhere towards the middle of Steve’s torso.

“Think you’re done for now, buddy?” he asked, and after a few seconds Bucky nodded, biting his lip.

“I don’t f-f-feel guh-good, Daddy,” he stuttered out, shivering hard, and Steve melted inside a little.

“I know, Bucky. I know you don’t. Let’s see if we can get you to bed, at least for now, huh?” he suggested, and Bucky nodded again. He stood up, turning away for a minute both to rinse out Bucky’s bowl and to give Bucky enough privacy to clean up. When he heard the toilet flush once more, he turned back round just in time to see Bucky, his metal hand holding his jeans up, as he stood and wobbled dangerously. His flesh hand grabbed the edge of the sink as his knees buckled under him for a moment; then Steve was right there, looping his arm underneath Bucky’s and around his back, until he was steady.

“Almost done, Buck,” he comforted, guiding his hands under the taps that JARVIS had thankfully turned on automatically, then finished emptying and rinsing the bowl before giving his own hands a good scrub.

Bucky turned, his head throbbing and starting to spin, and wrapped his arms, hands still wet, around his daddy’s chest. He felt the kiss that his daddy dropped into his clammy, lank hair, and a moment later, he was hauled back up against his daddy’s front, shifting to hold on around his daddy’s waist with his legs, even though they felt like jelly. But it was only for a moment, before Bucky felt himself shift backwards, and the edge of his mattress against his backside.

He nuzzled into his daddy’s calloused palm as he cupped his face for a moment, his thumb stroking Bucky’s cheek, and then watched as he stepped away and started rummaging through his drawers for a pair of pyjamas. Bucky let himself flop back onto the bed, rolling onto his right side and curling up into a tight ball as a particularly strong shiver rolled along his spine. The hairs on his arms sprang up into goosebumps as he shut his eyes and tried to blank out the queasy churning of his internal organs.

“C’mon Buck. Let’s get you out of those and into something more comfy.”

His eyes opened lethargically to find his daddy looking down at him. Even though it was January and Bucky was shaking almost as hard as he had when he came out of cryo, Daddy was unfolding a pair of light summer sleep shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

“M’c-cold,” Bucky complained, turning away and pushing his face into the covers. He knew he was whining, and that only naughty, manipulative little boys whined, but he felt so awful that for a moment he couldn’t help himself. Why on earth his daddy thought it was a good idea to dress him in something so light escaped him. Bucky Bear, from his position on the pillows, mentioned something about having a fever and needing to keep cool, but apparently Bucky Bear wasn’t feeling particularly well, or talkative, either. Perhaps his stuffing felt like it was in knots as well.

“You’re burning up, Buck. Your temperature is way too high.” Daddy told him gently, patting him on the butt. “Roll over, now, and you can curl up with Bucky Bear when you’re changed.”

Bucky grunted in reply, but turned onto his back and blinked up owlishly, his eyes red rimmed. He’d already been so bad that he didn’t dare argue with him. Maybe when he got under the blankets, he would warm up a bit. He didn’t say anything as he felt his daddy pulling his pants off, then his socks, simply shivering as his skin was exposed to the air-conditioned room.  But when Daddy urged him to lift his arms up, pulling his soaked shirt off after Bucky complied, he mewled, curling into himself and shuddering.

“Nearly done, lamb,” Daddy shushed, and quickly tugged the clean top over his head, patting at Bucky’s hip until Bucky lifted up from the bed far enough that his daddy could pull the sleep shorts up over the pull-up that was, to his relief, still almost completely dry. A squeak escaped him when his daddy pushed the sheets aside and slid Bucky up towards the pillows, bringing the covers up to tuck around his shoulders. He turned onto his side again, burying his hot face into the cool pillow and reaching blindly for Bucky Bear. He felt the bed shift as his daddy stood up, and heard him moving around the bathroom, the tap running and the catch of the medicine cabinet clicking open and closed, and then he was back, perched on the edge of the bed and caressing Bucky’s head. Bucky let himself drift for a moment, searching out as much comfort as he could despite feeling awful. Eventually his daddy spoke again.

“Bucky, can I speak to your friend Maggie and tell her you’re sick? I’d just like to ask her advice, because you know Bruce isn’t here today. Is that OK with you?”

Bucky paused for a moment, trying to make his mind focus. His chest started to ache at the idea.

“She’ll think I’m disgusting and horrible though, Daddy, and then she won’t want to be my friend any more.” Bucky said, pitifully, his voice deadened by the pillow. Steve frowned, and continued to stroke his head.

“No she won’t, Buck. She’ll just want to know if you’re alright, and she can make sure that I’m doing everything I can to help you get well as soon as possible. I know you’re feeling really awful and I just want to help you get better,”

Bucky frowned, but eventually shrugged. If Maggie decided that he was gross and icky, and she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, then it was no more than he deserved.

“Okay, Daddy.” he acquiesced. His daddy caught his hand and squeezed it.

“Good boy, Bucky. I’m really proud of you,” Daddy said, rubbing his thumb over Bucky’s wrist. Bucky lay there for a moment longer before continuing, still hiding his face in his pillow.

“M’sorry, Daddy.” he said, tired and drained. “I’ve been so bad today.”

Bucky felt his daddy’s hand tighten around the back of his neck in a gentle squeeze.

“Hush, now Bucky, you don’t need to say sorry. You’ve not been bad. You can’t help getting sick.” Daddy told him firmly. Then he was fussing with a big bath towel, tucking it under his chin and smoothing it down his front and the mattress in front of him, before reaching to place the empty washing up bowl right on the bed in front of Bucky’s face, then placing his hand onto it.

“The bowl’s there, alright, Buck? And there’s water on your nightstand. You try and sleep for a little bit and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I won’t be long, I promise. Just tell JARVIS if you need me.” Daddy said, and Bucky nodded, already falling into a restless drowse, despite the nausea and cramping still pulling at him.

Steve paused for a moment, frowning down at Bucky, before standing up and ducking quietly out of the room. He needed to get that number, but Bucky’s phone was downstairs on the coffee table. And he still needed to clean up in there, too. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, and headed into the elevator. It was moving even before he’d asked JARVIS to take him back to the common floor.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve said, patting the frame of the elevator’s door as if it were the AI’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Captain.” JARVIS replied, as the doors slid open. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he headed to the TV room, both in search of both of their cell phones and to figure out how on earth he was going to clean up. He stopped short at the threshold though. Even from there, he could smell bleach and see that two of the couch cushions had been stripped of their outer case. He had no doubt that they were currently swooshing around in one of the Avengers’ washers, and that there was only one person he needed to thank for this. Warmth flooded him at her thoughtfulness.

“Tell Pepper I said thank you, please JARVIS. And when Bucky’s better, please remind me to get her something nice,” Steve said quietly as he walked over and reached for the phones.

“Of course,” JARVIS answered, as Steve tucked his own into his back pocket and tapped the screen of Bucky’s. It wasn’t a problem to unlock it as he’d seen Bucky enter the pattern often enough. Normally, he wouldn’t even have considered looking at Bucky’s phone, even with the permission he currently had; trust was something that both of them had massive issues with already. He just needed this number. He scrolled through the short list of contacts until he reached Maggie’s name and then pressed the call icon, lifting the phone to his ear. He listened as it rang three times, and then connected.

“Hi Bucky! What a nice surprise to hear from you. I was just about to email you a photo of the cutest thing...” The voice at the other end of the line was warm, a hint of an accent... Russian maybe? Something like that.

“Uh... It’s not Bucky, ma’am. It’s Steve. Steve Rogers,” he interrupted.

“Steve. Of course. It’s just Maggie, though,” The tone of her voice had changed now, a touch of concern there which had been absent before. “We’ve not spoken since Clint was ill. How are you? Is everything okay with Bucky?”

“Uh... no. No, not really,” Steve admitted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading, commenting, giving kudos and generally giving me warm, fuzzy feelings. You're all awesome human beings! 
> 
> **Warning** : As well as Bucky's continued illness in this chapter, please be aware that there are mentions of his prior sexual abuse at the hands of Alexander Pierce. They're not in extreme detail, but it is still implied in some of Bucky's thoughts.

 

 _“Steve. Of course. It’s just Maggie, though,” The tone of her voice had changed now, a touch of concern there which had been absent before. “We’ve not spoken since Clint was ill. How are you? Is everything okay with Bucky?_ _”_

“Uh... no. No, not really,” Steve admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He heard rustling, as though a hand had been placed over the phone, and what sounded like a muffled request, followed by a door closing.

“Sorry about that,” Maggie finally spoke, “My daughter has a friend over, I’ve put Tea in charge.” Steve’s eyes screwed up slightly in confusion at the reference.

“No problem, Ma’a.. Maggie,” he replied. “I hope I’m not interrupting...”

“Not at all,” she broke in. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s Buck,” Steve started, “He seemed a bit off at breakfast but he hadn’t slept well so we - Bucky and I - we assumed it was that.” He paused for a moment, and she made a noncommittal noise. “Well, a couple’a hours later, we were sat watching a movie and he just started... Uh...  throwing up. But... Jesus, I ain’t never seen anyone throw up quite like he did. It was like someone had set off a firehose. An’ I don’t think he even realised he was gonna get sick until it happened, neither. Normally Bucky will get wound up an’ anxious at just the hint of getting nauseous these days,”

Once Steve started talking, he didn’t seem to be able to stop. It just felt good to be able to share his concern with someone who had more of a clue about these things than he did, even though he’d never really spoken to the nurse much, himself. Without even realising it, his accent thickened in his worry over Bucky.

“Anything else?” she asked, her voice calm and - by extension - calming Steve’s frayed nerves a touch too.

“Cramps. He’s got cramps. An’ he’s burning up. I haven’t tried takin’ his temperature, but he’s definitely got a fever. Tired.”

“Diarrhea?” she asked, and Steve nodded, forgetting for a moment he was on the phone.

“Yes... yes, bad,” he told her. “I saw a few of the guys go down with dysentery durin’ the war. I don’t think Bucky is much better.”

“Is he passing any blood, pus or mucus?” Maggie queried.

“I... I don’t know. I didn’t ask,” Steve admitted. “Is it important? I can go and check...?” He was already walking to the elevator when she answered.

“If he is, he needs to see a doctor straight away, Steve. But by the sound of it, he may simply have come down with the current stomach bug doing the rounds. It’s just a usual, common virus, norovirus it’s called. But this season’s strain is nasty. We’ve already had seven wards closed at the hospital because of outbreaks so far.”

“So what should I do? He only just now stopped throwin’ up and... y’know... after about half an hour, pretty much constantly. He’s gonna end up dehydrated.”

“Is keeping anything down? Water?” she asked, and Steve could almost hear her sit forwards, the slight concern in her voice a touch more noticeable.

“Not yet,” he said. “He hasn’t felt able to drink yet.”

“Alright, Steve,” Maggie replied, her nurse voice in place and Steve almost snapped to attention right there in the elevator as if he were back in the army again. “You need to try and keep him drinking. As much as you can get into him. Small sips, even if it’s just one every couple of minutes. Whatever will stay down. I know he’s not going to want to drink, but even if he’s vomiting, drinking small, regular amounts can help settle the nausea. And every time he goes to the bathroom, you need to try and get at least another six ounces to replace what he just lost. Though he may need more, with his physiology. If you can, try and persuade him to get some electrolytes down as well. If you don’t have anything like Pedialyte on hand, then you can make some up yourself. It’s only regular salt and sugar. I’ll text you the exact proportions.”

“We have Gatorade. Will that work?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. It’s the wrong balance and may just make him worse,” she explained. “Try to keep an idea of how often he’s vomiting and going to the bathroom too, so that we have an idea of how much fluid he’s actually losing. And if he’s really feverish, see if you can’t get him to keep some Tylenol down for a while, too,”

Steve realised he’d been standing in front of the open elevator doors that JARVIS must have held for him, and he stepped out into the hallway leading to Bucky’s room.

“I... I’m fairly sure that won’t stay down.” he told her, dubiously. When she answered, she didn’t sound surprised.

“Give it a try anyway, Steve. I don’t suppose there’s much chance of you getting him to the hospital for a check-up if he doesn’t improve, is there?” she sighed, and despite everything, a smile quirked at his lips.

“No, ma’am. Not goin’ to happen, I’m afraid.”  

She paused for a moment, and Steve pulled the phone from his ear to check the connection was still good. But before he could speak she continued. “I’m not supposed to do this, really. But if he’s still not keeping down fluids by this evening, call me again and I can come over. I can’t do much without an order from a doctor, but I can at least try and set up an IV to get some fluids into him.”

Steve swallowed. “You won’t get in trouble for breakin’ the rules, right?” he asked carefully.

“I won’t tell if you won’t!” she replied and he could virtually hear the wink that went along with the words.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction now that he had a plan. “Thank you for your help and your offer.”

“Not a problem, Steve. Just be sure to let me know how he is later, about seven or so. My daughter will be in bed by then if I need to come out. But either way, I’d like to know how he’s doing. If he gets any worse, though, or his fever tops a hundred and three, you really need to get a doctor to see him, somehow.” she instructed him,

“I will, Maggie. I promise.”

After hanging up, he took a deep breath. Then another. It was going to be fine. He had a plan. Sort of. Rather than head directly to Bucky’s room, he detoured to the kitchen on the floor that he shared with Bucky, and pulled a couple of bottles of water out of the refrigerator. As the phone bleeped in his hand, he thumbed open the message and looked over the instructions Maggie had sent.

 _Easy enough_ , he thought, bending to get a jug from the kitchen cupboard. Four cups of water. Six level teaspoons of regular sugar. Half a teaspoon of table salt. Mix until it’s all dissolved. He pulled open the drawer and extracted a long spoon to stir the solution, but paused midway, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. _Three of these a day?_ He glanced over in the direction of Bucky’s room, a look of disbelief on his face, before he shrugged. He’d just have to keep encouraging Bucky. Poor guy must be due most of this batch of fluids already.

Reaching for the tray, sitting on top of the microwave they hadn’t ever used, he shifted the jug, the bottles, an extra glass and some drinking straws onto it. He was pretty sure that Bucky had the same basic medical supplies as he did in his bathroom, including a packet of Tylenol, so he didn’t bother to stop by his room.

“How’s he been, JARVIS?” Steve asked as he made his way towards Bucky’s room.

“As well as can be expected, Captain. He hasn’t been unwell since you left twelve minutes ago, however.” he responded.

“Good. Could you arrange for delivery of some of that rehydration stuff, uhm... Pedialyte, right?” Steve said

“Certainly, Captain. It will be delivered by courier as soon as it is available,”

“Thanks. And... uh... JARVIS..? Are you able to get some kind of idea of how much fluid he’s losing?” Steve asked, uncertainly.

“I can provide an estimate based on Master Barnes’ behaviour, and upon averages that are listed in various medical and research sources, Captain. But I’m afraid that I cannot be more accurate.” JARVIS answered after a second of processing.

“Yes, that... That’s fine. Do that, please, JARVIS. And thanks.” Steve said. Balancing the tray on one hand, he knocked quietly and then, after a second, opened the door.

 

~ X ~

 

Bucky hadn’t been asleep really; more like fitfully drifting halfway between sleep and wakefulness, bizarre dreams about food that he desperately didn’t want haunting him. Between the strange images, he had a brief memory of being ill another time, not much older than five then either, but this time, curled up in his mama’s bed while she hummed a song to him and cooled his hands and face with a damp cloth, not complaining even when he’d woken and thrown up over his pillow simultaneously.

Bucky rarely cried for his mother, but he cried now. When the knock came a moment later, and Steve pushed the door open, he tried to quell his tears, hiding his face in the pillows. But his daddy quickly spotted his shoulders shaking, even as he sobbed silently. He heard a clunk, a rattle of glass as Daddy obviously put something down, next to the bed, and slid in beside him, his large hand resting in the middle of Bucky’s back.

“Oh, Bucky...” he sighed. “I know... you’re feeling really bad, huh?” Daddy kept his voice low, as if somehow knowing that Bucky’s head was throbbing in time with his heart. Bucky nodded, then shook his head no. “No?” Daddy asked, and Bucky shrugged half heartedly.

“I w-want muh-my mama!” Bucky wailed, his voice still stifled by the pillow. “She yuh-used to sing to me when I wa-was sick, t-til I wuh-went t’sleep...”

It was probably for the best that Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s face. He was biting his tongue hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood so that he wouldn’t start bawling side by side with Bucky. God knows, he’d missed his own mom enough after she’d passed, spending far too long in the shared bathroom back in their tenement building before the war, or trying to cry silently in the darkness of their twin bedroom and not wake his best friend at the darkest hour of the night, and he wasn’t thinking or feeling like a five year old then, either. When he finally felt like his voice might hold, he patted Bucky’s arm.

“I know, Bucky. I know you do. Your ma was amazing. I miss her too,” he admitted.

Bucky finally turned over, facing his daddy, and pressed his face into his chest. He was a mess, he knew, tear-stained and snotty, but his daddy didn’t seem to care. Instead, he pulled Bucky closer, wrapping an arm around his back and Bucky drew in a shuddering breath, trying to let the regular thump of his daddy’s heart soothe him. He had half expected his daddy to get upset because he’d wanted his mama, because how ungrateful was it to want somebody else to look after him when he was such a horrible, disgusting mess, as well as his daddy? And maybe he would feel like Bucky thought he wasn’t a good enough daddy? But right now his head was aching, and his tummy was swirling and he was struggling to find the energy to even think coherently.  

When he’d finally stopped sniffling, his daddy gently pushed away from him and lifted his chin to look at him.

“I know you’re feeling like you’re going to throw up, lamb, but you have to drink. If you don’t, you’re going to end up awfully sick, and I know you don’t want that any more than I do, hey?” Daddy said.

Bucky moaned quietly but nodded. As nauseated as his stomach was, he was thirsty. He just really didn’t want to be sick and make any more mess. As if reading his thoughts, his daddy spoke.

“And you might throw up again, but that’s okay, Buck. It’s not a problem. But we need to try and get some fluids into you.”

“‘Kay,” Bucky finally replied. His voice was rough both from crying and being sick.

“Good boy,” Daddy said, kissing his forehead and reaching down to the tray. Bucky heard water sloshing into a glass, and soon Daddy was sitting up beside him, with the glass in one hand. “It may taste a bit funny - it’s just got a little sugar and salt in to try and stop you getting sicker. But just try it for me, okay, Buck?”

Bucky grimaced, but pushed himself up onto his elbow and reached for a straw.

“Slowly,” Daddy reminded him. “Just a sip first.”

Bucky sucked up a small mouthful and pulled a face. It was starting to warm up to room temperature, and the combination of sugar and salt was strange and frankly unappealing to his unsettled stomach. But he forced himself to swallow it. Despite all of that, it felt amazingly cool and soothing as it ran down his scalded throat. When it didn’t immediately reappear, he swallowed another couple of mouthfuls. But after the fourth he pushed the glass away, his stomach starting to protest vociferously at the presence of anything inside it.

Bucky wasn’t sure exactly what it was that gave it away, but his daddy had quickly returned the glass back to the tray and reached over to pull the bowl into Bucky’s lap. Once the nausea kicked in properly again, rather than the vague sense of unease that it had been, it snowballed rapidly, and Bucky struggled to push himself completely upright as he felt his mouth fill with his own saliva once more. Instantly, his daddy’s arms were around his shoulders, helping to sit him up; Bucky grabbed the bowl, pulling it as close to his face as he dared while his daddy propped him up with one arm, and pulled his hair away from his face with the other.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he hummed. “Just breathe... that’s right, deep breaths... I’m right here.”

“Gonna be sick, Daddy,” he forced out, as he spat into the bowl.

“S’okay, Bucky. If you need to throw up, that’s okay... You’re being so brave...”

As if his body had been waiting for permission, Bucky promptly retched. Once. Twice. Then the water came up. He screwed his eyes shut, tears seeping between the lids anyway, as his body kept trying to puke, even though what came up now was mostly saliva and air, his stomach muscles wrenching painfully as he desperately tried to draw in gasping breaths between each dry heave. Finally, the full body spasms petered out into gagging, and eventually tapered off, and Bucky fell back against his daddy’s arm exhausted and feeling worse than ever.

“M’sorry, daddy,” he panted, “M’sorry, m’sorry, I tried not to be sick, I tried to keep it down, I really did...”

“Hush, Buck, I know you did, you tried so hard, you did so well,” Daddy said softly, lifting a corner of the towel to wipe away the tears collecting on Bucky’s eyelashes. A knotting cramp around his belly button caused Bucky to moan, his hand falling to his tummy and his knees drawing up towards his chest. Daddy reached to steady the bowl, sliding it to the side so that it wouldn’t tilt and spill, but was still within easy reach.

“It hurts, Daddy,” Bucky groaned, as sweat began beading along his hairline.

“I know, lamb, I know it does.” he replied. Gentle hands, his daddy’s hands, were pushing his hair back from his face, running through it again and again. Bucky wanted to beg, to ask him to make it stop, make it all go away. He didn’t want to be sick, he didn’t want to be in pain any more. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up better. The next cramp was accompanied with an obnoxious bubbling sensation; the audible grumbling was loud enough for his daddy to hear, causing Bucky to fumble out of the bed covers intent on making a dash for the bathroom. But before his feet could touch the floor, his daddy had hoisted him up against him and covered the distance in a moment, lowering Bucky to his feet beside the toilet. As soon as he was sure Bucky was stable, he left the room.

“Shout when you’re done,” he instructed Bucky, as he pulled the door closed behind him. Bucky blushed, but dropped both hands to his waistband as another cramp had him doubling over, as if his insides had been clamped in a vice. Even as he sat, he bent forwards, sucking in shallow, rapid breaths, his fingers digging into his thighs hard enough to bruise as each wave of pain rolled through him. It was only after several minutes of horridness that he realised that his metal fingers had dug hard enough into the bare flesh of his left leg to leave several lacerations. Thankfully they were shallow and just oozing, rather than bleeding freely, but he knew that his daddy was going to be concerned because he’d hurt himself, even if it was unintentional.

Unfortunately, it seemed that as soon as the cramping began to ease off again, the nausea was back full force and, glancing around frantically, he hooked the - thankfully empty - bathroom trash can with his foot just in time to start retching all over again. By this point, the only thing left to come up was a little bile and mucus, but Bucky was honestly starting to believe that he was going to actually throw up his stomach if he kept up like this. He considered asking Bucky Bear if that was possible, but Bucky Bear had said nothing further since he’d been back on Bucky’s bed after Daddy had changed Bucky, instead, simply growling quietly to himself. When the retches finally stopped, Bucky reached up his arm to wipe his eyes shakily, and after a moment, when he was mostly sure that he was done for the immediate future, he started tidying himself up. It was only after he flushed and washed his hands, a mission that required him to keep one hand on the sink to support his weight at all times, that he called for his daddy.

Steve was there almost before Bucky finished calling out for him, carrying the bowl from the bedroom which he quickly emptied and rinsed, before passing it back to Bucky and lifting him up once more to return him to his bed. Steve’s eyes dropped to the abraded areas on his leg and he clucked his tongue. Bucky immediately began to apologise, to explain, _it was just an accident, Daddy, I didn’t mean to do it_ , until Steve managed to quiet him. He then ran through the same routine, tucking the towel down his front, over his clothes and the top of the covers, placing the bowl besides him, before heading into the bathroom once more.

Even though the scratches would probably heal within the hour, he began to rummage through the contents of the medicine cabinet. The Band-Aids were inside the door, and even featured Minions. JARVIS must have restocked after they’d watched Bucky spinning in circles, his arms outstretched and his head back, laughing unreservedly while his hair flew everywhere when they’d sat down to watch ‘Despicable Me’ one afternoon. The Tylenol was near the front, but the thermometer that seemed to be present in every suite of rooms was hidden right near the back. He glanced at the trash can out of the corner of his eye, and sighed, rinsing it out, before returning back to sit beside Bucky on the bed. He carefully applied a Band-Aid to every fingermark before kissing his fingertips and pressing them gently to his leg. Steve took his time before speaking again; this was going to be an awkward question to ask, for both of them, but it had to be done.

“Bucky, I know this is embarrassing for you, but I really need to know, okay?” Steve paused for a moment, considering his wording. “When you... uh... When you have to go to the bathroom, is there any blood there? Or... um, mucus? Anything like that?”

Bucky felt his ears burn and looked down at his hands, now twisting in his covers. He shook his head. “No Daddy. I don’t think so,” he almost whispered.

“That’s okay, Bucky. You did well. But please tell me if you do see anything like that, alright?”  Daddy asked. Bucky nodded, and watched shyly through his eyelashes as his daddy pulled the thermometer from the packet. It was a glass one, and after his daddy shook the red liquid down into the bulb, he looked over at Bucky, “Try and keep this under your tongue, okay, buddy?”

Bucky nodded, and felt the cool glass slip between the back of his lower incisors and his tongue. The moment it touched the spot where his tongue and the floor of his mouth joined, Bucky gagged, spitting it out and pulling a face.

“I can’t, Daddy. It’s making me feel sick again.” he whimpered.

He felt the back of his daddy’s fingers brushing his cheek, before speaking. “Can you try again for me, Buck? I really need to know how bad your fever is.”

Bucky squirmed, torn between wanting to be good and trying not to throw up again. Eventually, he nodded, and obediently opened his mouth again. However, as with the first time, the moment the weight of his tongue settled onto the glass bulb, Bucky gagged, the thermometer slipping from his mouth as he slammed his hand over his lips in a panic, convinced that he was about to throw up.

“I’m s-sorry, Daddy,” he said, his eyes widening. “I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know, Bucky,” his daddy replied, soothing him. “I know you are. Can you try once more for me, lamb? Just once more.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, before he nodded, his eyes already filling with tears. _Such a bad boy,_ he thought _._ He had been beaten and left to sit in his own blood for hours for gagging when his other daddy tried to put things into his mouth. He knew that this Daddy wasn’t like his old one, but he was still afraid that if he didn’t manage this time, then maybe he would just leave him there on his own until he was better behaved. Bucky didn’t think he could cope with that right now; certainly not while Bucky Bear was dealing with his own terrible bear stomach upset. He opened his mouth and waited while his daddy tried one last time to take his temperature.

This time, he lasted a little longer. He managed to suppress the initial gag, but after no more than ten seconds, he had to spit it out again, up on his elbow while grabbing the bowl and retching several times. He felt his daddy gathering his hair as he hung over it, but breathed a sigh of relief as the urge to heave tapered off instead of kicking into another bout of vomiting, and dropped back to his pillow, breathing hard. His daddy reached out and stroked his hair away from his damp forehead before speaking.

“Never mind, Buck. You did your very best and I’m proud of you for trying. We’ll just have to manage without knowing your temperature...”

“If I may be so bold, Captain,” JARVIS chimed in, “you should be able to take Master Barnes’ axillary temperature with that thermometer. Simply add one point zero degrees Fahrenheit to the value. I am displaying instructions now.”

Immediately, transparent hologrammatic windows appeared over Bucky’s bed, complete with photos showing how to correctly position the thermometer and Bucky’s arm to get an accurate reading. Steve followed each step, and after five minutes, twisted the glass rod back and forth between his fingers, carefully checking the reading.

“102.2” he announced, as he carefully wiped the thermometer and replaced it in the case on the bedside table. “Oh, Bucky,” he sighed, leaning forwards to kiss his burning forehead.

“M’sorry, Daddy,” he answered quietly.

“It’s okay, Bucky. It’s not your fault. Everyone gets sick. I used to get sick all the time when we were kids,” his daddy said. Bucky nodded. He had memories of a time when his daddy was small, his back curved awkwardly, his ears throbbing and his lungs wheezing, and that sometimes he’d cough so hard that he’d throw up as well, or the whites of his eyes would turn red. But then those thoughts started to make him feel anxious and squirmy, and so he squeezed his eyes shut until they went away again.

“How about we have another try with some water, instead?” he heard Daddy say. Bucky frowned, but nodded. Maybe just _one_ sip, this time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the science bit!
> 
>  
> 
> Norovirus actually refers to a group of different viruses, but the **Norwalk type viruses** are most commonly known as simply **"norovirus"** or the **"winter vomiting virus"**. While you may also know it as **"stomach flu"** , it is completely unrelated to **influenza** \- it's this little beast in the vast majority of outbreaks of vomiting and diarrhoea at all times of the year, despite the common name. It's almost perfectly evolved for it's role, even if it leaves us feeling like death warmed up. 
> 
> The human gut absorbs water far better if there's the right amount of salt and sugar mixed in. This is why **ORS solutions** like **Pedialyte** , **Dioralyte** etc are great for **rehydrating** at any time, particularly during illness where you are losing fluid and electrolytes (such as gastroenteritis, fevers etc).
> 
> Despite the common use during stomach upsets, **Gatorade** products, and similar things such as **Powerade** and **Lucozade** , are **not appropriate** for replacing large amounts of fluid and electrolytes. They are more concentrated than normal body fluids, and therefore can actually **make you worse** , effectively more unbalanced in terms of fluid to electrolytes than you were before. 
> 
> If you don't have a proper **ORS** product, a **basic** version can be made using the recipe given in this story - 4 cups/I litre of water, 6 level teaspoons of table sugar (not sweeteners) and ½ a teaspoon of table salt (not low sodium products or kosher/sea salts, just regular fine salt). Normally, it's recommended that you take **three litres a day** minimum, but it's important to keep an eye on your fluid loss and drink more if necessary. You can make more funky versions with added **orange juice** (add half a cup/100 ml to the prior solution) to replace **potassium**. It can be kept **refrigerated** for 24 hours.
> 
> Even if you are vomiting, **keep drinking** , even if it's just **tiny sips** every minute or two. The body starts to absorb water almost immediately, so even if it feels like you aren't absorbing anything, you hopefully are keeping a little down. And sometimes, drinking small, regular amounts can help to **reduce nausea and vomiting** as well. 
> 
> If you find that you **can't keep even small amounts** of water down, and you have been **vomiting heavily** for a day or more - especially in addition to frequent, watery **diarrhoea** and **fever** \- and start to feel **faint** , **dizzy** , a **headache** , or when you **pinch your skin** on the back of your hand, it doesn't immediately spring back, you need to **contact a medical professional** for assistance. It's worth **phoning** in advance, because noroviruses are exceptionally **contagious** , and they may want to arrange a home visit or for you to be placed away from main waiting areas to help prevent spread. If you notice that you are passing **blood** , **mucus/slime** , **pus** with your stools, or your fever rises **above 103°F/39.5°C** , seek medical assistance **immediately**. And always **wash your hands thoroughly** in warm water and soap, especially after using the bathroom, vomiting, dealing with any spillages and before touching anything that is going into your mouth - this is the only way to control the spread of the virus.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for the comments, kudos etc. *mwah*
> 
> This is a particularly hard chapter for Bucky, emotionally. My beta left me a comment at one point which said _"No correction here, just OH, BUCKY, YOU POOR THING. LET YOUR DADDY LOVE YOU."_ so do watch out for the feels! 
> 
> **Warnings:** No real grossness for this chapter (surprisingly). More mentions of previous sexual abuse/assault. This time is far more overt than just insinuation, but there are no specific details involved. This, along with one further comment in a later chapter, is about as far as the description goes, however. As always, please be aware of the tags.
> 
>  

 

The next few hours followed a routine of sorts. Every time Bucky drank even a mouthful of water, he’d vomit within a couple of minutes, bringing up whatever he’d taken in and a seemingly endless supply of gastric fluids. By the time Bucky begged him to stop, Steve had persuaded him to drink two pints of rehydration solution and plain water, and Bucky had promptly thrown it all up again. To add to his misery, the cramps were sending him into the bathroom every twenty or thirty minutes, and this showed no sign of letting up. Steve found his fingernails digging semi-circular divots into his palms every time that Bucky was in there, unable to block out his cries of pain and misery.

When, four hours or so in, he caught Bucky limping away from the bathroom sink, he assumed that this was just another part of the physical weakness that he’d been displaying as a symptom of the virus. It was only when Steve had hoisted his arm underneath Bucky’s backside to settle him into his chest for the short trip back to his bed, and Bucky had almost hit the ceiling with a pained howl, that he’d realised something else was wrong.

“Bucky? Bucky, what is it?” Steve asked anxiously.

Bucky had whined, dropping his head to his daddy’s shoulder and turning his face as far away as possible. He really didn’t want to have to admit this to his daddy. He might insist on seeing doctors and Bucky didn’t think he could bear to have anyone staring at his private parts, especially not right now. The world tilted queasily and the cool sheets of the bed were against his back, the covers tugged up around his chest, and then his daddy’s hands were on his cheeks, gently lifting his head towards his daddy’s searching gaze. He screwed his eyes together tightly, feeling his entire face turn pink.

“Bucky... look at me, please, lamb.” Daddy said, gently but firmly, and Bucky reluctantly opened his eyes. Daddy smiled. “Hey there! So... What happened back there, huh? Are you hurting?”

Bucky paused; he didn’t want to lie to his daddy. Lying was wrong and manipulative. Bad boys lied. _And maybe_ , he thought, _Daddy will know how to help without having to see any doctors_. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down. He wished Bucky Bear would help him, but he was still grumbling away to himself, no matter how much Bucky cuddled him. When he eventually found his voice, it was barely audible.

“Sore, Daddy,” he admitted, tangling his fingers together. He wanted to chew at a finger nervously, but even thinking about putting something in his mouth made him want to throw up again.

“Sore?” his daddy asked, puzzled. “Like, your tummy muscles are sore?”

Bucky shook his head no. “Well, yeah. But not _just_ my tummy muscles.” he clarified, picking at a loose bit of skin by his thumb.

“Not just yo... Oh!” Steve’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned upon him. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself, berating himself for the fact that he hadn’t considered the effect that the frequency of Bucky’s visits to the bathroom must be having on that delicate an area of skin. “How bad is it, Bucky?”

Bucky shrugged. In all honesty, every time he went to the bathroom now, it felt as though someone had struck a giant match and pressed the flaring phosphorus against his flesh. Even now, just the pressure of the curve of his own buttocks on the excoriated skin was causing it to throb heatedly in time with his heart beat.

“I... I think...” he swallowed. “There was blood, Daddy.”

Steve bit his cheek, forcing himself not to panic overtly, and tried to set his face into a neutral expression.

“Was it in the toilet, Buck? Or only when you wiped?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

Bucky sniffled. He knew his daddy was worried, and he felt terrible for being the cause of that.

“Just a bit on the paper?” Although phrased like a question, Bucky hoped that was the right answer. He felt his daddy shift next to him, and gentle fingers curl around his chin to lift his face. He felt his heart speed up at the anxious look in his daddy’s eyes.

“Bucky, I... you aren’t going to like it, but I’m going to have to check, Bucky, and make sure you’re okay.” Bucky was shaking his head and pulling back, even before his daddy had finished speaking. A knot of panic formed in his chest, melding with the nausea and roiling in his guts in a horrible, sick muddle. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt himself starting to hyperventilate. He knew it was his daddy. He knew his daddy was safe and wouldn’t hurt him like that. But shards of memories, of other times and other people, played in front of his eyes, so vivid that he was almost there all over again. By the time he managed to separate his daddy’s voice, calling his name and encouraging him to breathe slowly, from the babble of the flashbacks, he wasn’t sure how much time has passed. He let his daddy pull him into a hug, his strong arms helping to chase away the lingering memories, as he murmured calming nonsense, before eventually trying explain the situation. Bucky’s back stiffened, but he listened.

“I know, Buck, I know you don’t want me to do this. I know it’s scary, but lamb, I have to do it. If you don’t let me do it then I can’t help you, and then you may have to see a doctor about it as well.” his daddy explained.

Bucky wished, once more, that Bucky Bear was around. He always knew the right answer at times like this. But when Bucky considered letting a stranger examine him right now, he shuddered, a full body tremor, and shook his head. If someone had to do it, then it was better if it he could trust them. And if he couldn’t trust his daddy, who could he trust?

“Alright,” he sighed. “But do it quick, okay, Daddy? Please?”

The look in his eyes, the pleading expression written on his face, had Steve biting the inside of his cheek again so that he wouldn’t show his heart breaking a little.

“Of course, Bucky,” he choked out. “Whatever you need.”

Bucky closed his eyes tightly, holding his breath for a moment, before he started to wriggle his pyjama pants and pull-up down over his hips and partway down his thighs. The sensation of the bedclothes against his skin made him tremble, but he kept repeating the same mantra in his head, over and over. _It’s just Daddy... Daddy is safe... Daddy won’t hurt me..._ He carefully turned onto his side, facing away from his daddy, and swallowed hard, trying to screw up his courage. Eventually, he sucked his lower lip between his teeth and turned his head to glance over at his daddy, his eyes haunted.

“Jus’ don’t touch, ‘kay?” Bucky implored.

“Alright, Bucky,” Steve somehow managed to reply with a steady voice. Slowly, so that Bucky could clearly anticipate his movements, he guided both of his own hands behind his back, and grasped each wrist with the opposite fingers tightly. “You move the covers and show me when you’re ready.”

Surprisingly, the gesture took Bucky’s anxiety down a notch. He turned his head forwards again, clenching his eyes shut, and pushed the covers down. The cooler air across the taut skin of his bottom made his stomach gripe in a way completely unrelated to the incessant nausea and colic. He needed to get this over with, so he slid his knees up towards his stomach, reaching backwards with his metal hand. The cold hardness of those fingers against his skin was the only thing that kept him from completely freaking out. His old daddy had hated his metal arm so much that he’d have never allowed Bucky to open himself up with it. It was safer than the sensation of warm skin against him right now. He hissed as the tips of his fingers brushed over exquisitely tender skin, and turned his face into the pillow beneath his head. However much this needed to be done, it was mortifying, and he just wanted it to be over.

Steve’s breath hissed through his teeth in sympathy. Bucky’s skin was red, raw, moist, broken in patches, and puffy. There was still a dried trace of blood smeared at the edge of one particularly angry patch, but there didn’t appear to be anything actively bleeding.

“Oh, Bucky!” he breathed, closing his eyes briefly. “You can... we’re done, now, Buck.”

Bucky scrambled back into his clothes as quickly as he could physically manage in his current condition, and pulled the covers back over himself until just the top of his head was visible. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel his pulse throbbing at his temples. He’d heard his daddy’s exclamation, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the cause. Maybe his other daddy had visibly damaged him with the grown up games. Or perhaps he’d not managed to clean himself as well as he should have, even though he’d tried really hard. He’d had to bite his lip until it bled the last time, because he was so sore, but that was no excuse. His whole body suffused with crimson, shrinking further under the covers in shame. His daddy wouldn’t want anything to do with such a filthy boy. Tears dripped along his cheeks, onto the pillow underneath his head, and he cried silently. Today really was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Steve sat at the edge of the bed and brought his hands back to his lap. He felt helpless; he didn’t know quite what to do, whether to just hug Bucky and tell him it would be OK, or if he needed time without being touched. He reached his hand out but paused with his palm hovering, his fingers curling back into a loose fist as he withdrew. He’d told Bucky it was up to him. He wasn’t going to touch him until Bucky said it was all right to do so.

“Bucky? Did you want a hug, buddy?” he asked.

Under the covers, Bucky wasn’t sure that he’d heard correctly for a moment. He’d been certain that his daddy would be repulsed by such a dirty, damaged boy and that the last thing that he’d want to do was cuddle him. He nodded his head roughly, and hauled himself over to face the other side, dropping himself across his daddy’s lap. Immediately, there were strong arms around him, hauling him against his daddy’s chest, while carefully keeping Bucky on his side to minimise his discomfort. Large hands stroking his back, through the hair at the nape of his neck, were enough to start him relaxing. Tears still seeped from beneath his closed eyelids, more in relief now than anxiety, but his fears and apologies still spilled forth like a river.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m horrible and revolting and disgusting and I know nobody can ever love me, I’m trying, I’ll try harder, I’ll be better, I’m sorry I’m so dirty...”  Bucky babbled. Steve just held him tighter, his cheek pressed into Bucky’s hair.

“I’ve got you, Buck, you’re safe, I’m right here, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I’m so proud, you were such a brave boy, you did so well, it’s all okay, you’re not revolting or horrible or dirty, you’re perfect just how you are, you have nothing to be sorry for, you’re just sick, buddy, that’s all...” His daddy’s voice eventually lulled him back towards calmness, and he didn’t even startle when JARVIS suddenly spoke.

“I apologise for the intrusion, Captain Rogers, but Sir wishes to speak to you. In his own words, he asked me to ‘set up FaceTime with Capsicle’. Are you available to speak to him?”

Steve sighed, as Bucky whined softly into Steve’s belly. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere just yet, apparently.

“Sure, go ahead, JARVIS. But please tell him that if he acts like a jerk today, then I’m going to come down there and deal with him myself.”

“Certainly, Captain” JARVIS replied and Steve could almost believe that he had heard dry amusement in his tone. A moment later, a hologrammatic window appeared in front of Steve, with Tony’s face in the centre.

“I’m devastated, Cap! You think that I don’t know when to hold my tongue?” Tony placed his hand over the centre of his chest in mock hurt. Steve simply raised his eyebrows, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour when Tony was in this mood, and waited for him to continue. Tony stretched his head to glance down at the bundle of bedclothes and the barely visible tangle of hair that had slunk as far down into Steve’s lap as humanly possible. When he next spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle.

“Hey there, Tiger. You’re feeling pretty rough, huh?” Bucky grunted vaguely, but didn’t really respond.

“What’s up, Tony?” Steve asked, cutting to the chase. He knew he was probably coming over brusque, but honestly, Bucky needed him more right now. If there was a call to assemble, they’d just have to make do without him today.

“How’s he doing?” Tony asked. “Pep said he seemed pretty bad. Has he stopped...” He puffed his cheeks out with air to intimate his meaning.

“No. Not yet,” Steve answered, glancing down at Bucky for a moment.

“Oookay, that’s...not good, then. Do we need to get him to a doctor?” Bucky managed to whine out a ‘no’, his anxiety ramping right back up again.

“No, no, shush, Buck, it’s alright, no doctors just now...” Steve frowned at Tony, trying to display his sense of helplessness just with his facial expression in order to not stress Bucky further.

“Look, I know he doesn’t want to see anyone, and honestly, I can’t say I blame him, I’m not feeling particularly like the life and soul of the party myself when I’m having an out-of-stomach-experience eith-”

“Tony...” Steve warned.

“Sorry, sorry! All I meant was that I can call my... “ Tony mouthed the word ‘doctor’ “... to come and at least look in on him. Y’know, if it’d help.” He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. Steve started to feel a little bad for prejudging him.

“Thanks Tony.” he told him, genuinely grateful. “I don’t know if...” Steve tilted his head towards Bucky, who was now back to shivering and intermittently moaning whenever a particularly nasty cramp hit. “But I’ll let you know.”

“No problemo, Spangles.” Tony replied with a grin, back to his normal self. A crash behind Tony had him whipping his head around, before he began threatening to turn DUM-E into a novelty hat stand and JARVIS cut the connection.

Steve sighed and shook his head, looking down at Bucky. He gently began finger-combing the tangles from his hair, and Bucky seemed to melt into him a little. His mind wandered back to the previous subject, and what on earth he was meant to do. He really needed to talk to Maggie again; he had no ideas on how to fix this. But given the sensitivity of this issue and Bucky’s history, he really needed to get Bucky’s consent first.

“Hey, uh, Bucky... I have an idea of someone that might be able to suggest something to help your skin feel a bit more comfortable.” Steve paused, waiting for Bucky to parse his comment. He frowned, his cheeks flushing. The last thing he wanted was anyone else knowing, let alone seeing.

“Don’t want anyone looking, Daddy,” he replied, already uncomfortable with the subject.

“I know, lamb, and I don’t mean for anyone to look, or to tell a stranger. But do you think you would be alright with me explaining to Maggie, and seeing if she knows anything that can help?” Steve proposed gently.

Bucky’s initial response was to rapidly shake his head no. The thought of his friend knowing was mortifying. But after a moment, and a quick reminder of how much it hurt when he shifted, he started to reconsider. After all, when she found out about the whole pull up scenario, and when Clint was unconscious in the hospital, she hadn’t found that disgusting. In fact, she’d later explained it to him, that it was no different from using her artificial leg, or the wheelchair when she was at home. That protection was just another aid to being able to live your life in the most effective and comfortable way possible. And while he still hated wearing protection, he had to admit that she’d been right. It was unpleasant to wake up in the morning with a heavy, sodden mess around his hips, but it was much better than waking up in the middle of the night with wet sheets, or ruining Daddy’s mattress, and nobody even had to know unless he told them. Maybe he should let her also try and help with this. So he took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

“Okay, Daddy. Maggie’s nice. You can tell her... But only her, ‘kay? Nobody else!”

Steve hugged him tight for a moment before replying.

“Thank you for being such a brave boy, Bucky. I’m very, very proud of you today.” he said. His voice may have wobbled slightly. He sat there for another few minutes petting Bucky’s hair and rubbing long, slow strokes along his back, encouraging the sick man to relax back into his embrace.

After another moment, JARVIS announced that the courier had delivered the order of Pedialyte and had loaded the bags onto the elevator. This gave Steve a reason to excuse himself and call the nurse while collecting the electrolytes from the elevator car that was currently being held by JARVIS at Bucky and Steve’s floor.

“Hey, Bucky, I need to go collect that order that the pharmacy sent over. I’ll be right back as fast as I can, alright?” Steve said quietly. Bucky made a vague noise that confirmed that he’d heard what his daddy had said, but he was currently half dozing again, in between cramps. Steve carefully shifted him back up onto the pillows, tucking the towel back under his chin and across his chest, and left, leaving the door slightly ajar. He looked at his watch as he first headed towards the open elevator doors. He had said that he’d call Maggie around seven but it wasn’t even five o'clock yet. Still, he really did need to ask her advice again; Bucky’s fluid loss wasn’t slowing down and he was so sore already that something had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sciencey Stuff
> 
> It's not unusual, even in adults, to end up with **sore, chafed skin** in sensitive places. **Diarrhoea** is a very common cause, and it really doesn't take long. But other things, such as **rubbing skin surfaces, sweating, pressure** , use of **sanitary products, underwear made from man-made fibres** or **tights, tight fitting clothing** such as jeans, etc. can cause skin breakdown and people dealing with **continence issues** can also have problems. 
> 
> **Changing** absorbent products frequently, using those with **rapid absorption gels** that keep moisture away from the skin and **limiting washing** to prevent soap from drying the skin is usually enough, but **fecal incontinence or soiling** as well as **urinary incontinence** is the main reason to develop **irritant dermatitis** (nappy/diaper rash). Urine alone is **much less likely** to cause a problem. This is because the main irritant is **ammonia** and the **bacteria** from the **gut** break down urine very quickly to produce high levels of ammonia (and other irritants). However, **excoriation** \- skin breaking down and getting red and sore - can occur for **many reasons** , particularly in moist areas. 
> 
> The **treatment** for all of these is much the **same**. Various **creams** can be used to soothe the area, protect it and promote healing. The most common is **zinc oxide** , which is the basis for most **nappy/diaper rash creams**. This can be bought as a **generic** product from any pharmacy, supermarket etc. Another option is **aqueous creams** or **emollients** , which can be used as both barrier creams and in place of soaps. There are also some **medicated ointments** designed for nappy/diaper rash, such as _Metanium_ in the UK, that contain other active ingredients, and these may prove more effective in more severe soreness. 
> 
> While it may be tempting to **wash** the affected areas very thoroughly, it's best to do as little as necessary. **Soap** should be **avoided** unless there is very heavy soiling to an area, and ideally you should only wash the perineal area **twice a day** in plain water. Some people may find it soothing to use **sitz baths** two or three times a day instead, maybe with a spoon of **baking soda** in the water, for a few minutes at a time, but long soaking is not advised. When it comes to **drying** , gently **pat** the area dry instead of rubbing, or use a **hair dryer** set to low on an adult. 
> 
> Wherever possible, let the area **open to the air**. If at home, wander around **without clothing** on the affected areas for **as long as possible** , and wear **loose, cotton clothing**. Try using an **extra rinse** on your underwear to remove excess laundry products which can also be irritating. If using absorbent products, you may try **swapping** to unscented brands or from disposable to cloth or vice versa. Avoid the use of **plastic pants** completely. 
> 
> If the problem **persists** , then there may be another issue, such as an **infection. Candida (thrush)** is a common cause of this, and the itching may be completely absent. In that case, adults can apply **antifungal creams** for treating **yeast infections/thrush** to the area and this may help clear it up, although it can take a week or so to really get rid of it. **Bacteria** can also infect broken skin, and so if home treatment hasn't worked, or if it gets **significantly worse, there's any discharge or pus** , or **you develop a fever** , then see a **doctor** for a proper diagnosis. 
> 
> It may be tempting to use **wet wipes/baby wipes** or **moist toilet paper** when dealing with this condition. It's generally best **avoided** , particularly the baby wipes, and any product that contains **alcohol or polyethylene glycol** should be avoided as they can sting, as well as spread bacteria to broken skin. If you can find a **moist toilet paper** that avoids this, then you can try it and see if it's more comfortable. Otherwise, it's fine just to use **regular toilet tissue or cotton wool** moistened with a little **water** and gently patting the skin rather than wiping. As above, gently pat dry or use a low hair dryer, if necessary, and then **reapply any cream** that you are using. While it may be tempting to use **baby powder or corn starch** type products to absorb sweat and moisture, these will simply **cause chafing, provide a breeding ground for bacteria and make the area more uncomfortable** , so **avoid them** until the area is healed.
> 
> Finally, if there are **ongoing issues** with continence and/or skin integrity, then there are a number of products that can be purchased or got on prescription for **cleaning, barrier protection and healing**. Ask your **doctor or continence nurse** for advice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks for the kudos, comments, bookmarks etc. You make me a very happy writer. I'm so glad people are enjoying this as - I have to admit - I was worried a bit about posting it. :-)
> 
> **Warning:** As always, upcoming minor grossness, angst, and many Bucky feels. Oh, and more of Maggie. :)  
>     
> 

 

Steve stopped short as he reached the end of the hallway. There were half a dozen bags bearing the logo of a nearby drugstore, which appeared to contain almost a dozen different colours, and presumably flavours, of fluid. In addition, there were several boxes that, on closer inspection, contained  sachets of flavoured powder that could be mixed with water as needed, and they seemed to come in even more flavours. The last box was much heavier and sloshed; apparently they even sold this stuff in freeze-your-own-popsicle format as well.

Steve shook his head, making his way to the kitchen so that he could at least start the popsicles off. He carefully stacked the cartons into the cupboard, and managed to squeeze most of the bottles of ready to drink solution into the fridge. According to the label, they tasted better chilled. He picked a bottle at random and peered at the label. Strawberry supposedly. Rather than waiting for that to chill with the others, he pulled open several cupboards until he found a drinks cooler which he filled with water, ice and a handful of salt, before immersing the dark pink filled container. Hopefully that would be cold enough to be palatable by the time he’d spoken to Maggie again.

This time when he dialled, she answered after the first ring.

“Hi, Steve?” she asked expectantly.

“Yes, hello Maggie. I know it’s not seven yet but...” he started, only for her to interrupt.

“Pshht, never mind that. How’s Bucky? He’s not any better, I assume?” she guessed. Steve wasn’t sure if his tone had given it away, or simply that he was phoning early. Or maybe it was just some sort of medical sixth sense.

“No... no, he isn’t.” he explained. “He’s not even managin’ to keep sips down long enough to absorb much, if anythin’. The Pedialyte has just arrived from the pharmacy, but I’m not sure if that will sit any better. An’ he’s still having to rush to the bathroom two, three times an hour.” It seemed that every time he talked to her about Bucky, his accent drifted back towards its Brooklyn roots.

“Oh, the poor _sonechko_!” she tutted.

“Yes, and... about that... he... uh, he’s gotten real sore... y’know, from having to go so often?” Steve found himself blushing just discussing it with the nurse - heaven only knew how poor Bucky felt about it. “I don’t know what to do about it, to be frank.”

“Yes, I imagine he probably is,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “That’s very common. And with that frequency, I’d be amazed if he wasn’t. I can help there. I’ll bring some cream over with me when I come. In the meantime, I can give him some advice to try and minimise his discomfort.”

“Thank you,” Steve breathed, feeling a knot of anxiety start to unwind in his chest a little. “It scared me at first, because he said he saw blood, an’ all? But I think it was just where he’s gotten so raw.”

“It’s not that rare, when people are really sick like Bucky. The skin down there’s not designed for it. But the good news is that it should heal up fast once his tummy has settled down again. He mentioned that he heals faster than normal, as well.” Maggie explained. It was reassuring to know. He picked up the cooler in one hand, and walked back towards Bucky’s bedroom so that Maggie could talk to him. “Did you manage to keep a record of roughly how often he’s been sick as well as been to the bathroom? I need to try and work out his fluid loss and that would be a great help.”

“Oh sure, hang on.” Steve said, pulling the phone from his ear. “JARVIS? Have you got an estimate on how much fluid Bucky’s lost for me, please?”

“Certainly, Captain. Based on my records, Master Barnes has vomited approximately twenty-one times, and used the bathroom sixteen times between 11:19 AM and 4:42 PM. Taking into account additional insensible fluid loss including excessive perspiration as a result of his fever of approximately one hundred and two point two degrees Fahrenheit, his current estimated fluid loss is five thousand nine hundred millilitres, with a margin of error of eight hundred millilitres,” the AI responded.

“What’s that in old money, JARVIS?” Steve clarified.

“Approximately one point five gallons, plus or minus twenty-eight ounces, Captain.”

Steve swallowed hard. He hadn’t realised that it was that high.

“Did you hear that, Maggie?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“I did,” she answered, deep in thought. “How much does Bucky weigh these days?”

“He ain’t been trainin’ like he used to. He’s down to about two-forty pounds. But that arm of his an’ all the internal reinforcements probably make up fifty or sixty pounds of that.”

Steve waited, listening to Maggie muttering under her breath to herself. By now, he was outside Bucky’s room, and he peered in through the gap in the door. Bucky was sweaty, but resting relatively quietly still. Poor guy must be exhausted.

“...one-eighty... divide by two point two... pfff... eighty-two? Eight point two litres is ten... six is... mmmm... seven point something percent. I think.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked

“It means that Bucky’s suffering from moderate dehydration, rather than severe, at this point, but he’s definitely going to need that IV for fluids and sooner rather than later.” she explained, “The problem is, I don’t know that I can procure enough fluids to replace what he’s lost. If he were keeping _anything_ down then it might be enough; but honestly I think he needs medicine to help him stop vomiting and I can’t get that without a doctor’s script, as well as a blood test to make sure that we’re replacing everything that he’s losing. Are you _sure_ you can’t talk him into coming to the hospital?”

Steve backed away, taking a few long strides and lowering his voice before he answered. He didn’t want Bucky to get upset by what he had to say.

“No... no, but Tony... Mr. Stark has a doctor. He said that he could get the guy to come out to the tower. I don’t know if Bucky’d let him anywhere near him, but maybe he could help?” Steve told her.

“That would be very useful indeed. I’m going to send you a list of items that I’ll need if I am going to help Bucky. Could you please pass them onto Tony and ask his doctor to prescribe them and fill the scripts before he comes to the tower?” Maggie had shifted back into nurse mode, and once again, Steve felt himself snap to attention instinctively. Her voice held the sense of calm, capable leadership that he automatically responded to.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that immediately. Should I still expect you after seven?” he asked, slipping back into his military bearing. When she replied, there was a note of amusement in her tone.

“I’ll try to get there before if I can. Otherwise, I’m sure that you’ll hold down the proverbial fort until then, soldier!” Steve felt his ears heat up, but couldn’t help a small smile nonetheless.  “One final thing, before I speak to Bucky, though; please wipe down your door handles and elevator buttons with bleach solution before I arrive. A tablespoon or two in a pint of water. I’d rather not take another bout of norovirus home!”

Steve paused, horrified. He hadn’t even considered that this could infect Maggie, her family and potentially lose her income and make already very sick patients even sicker in the hospital.

“Oh Maggie! I’m so sorry, I never even thought... I don't know what's gotten into me! I can’t ask you to come out here. I’ll just have to get Bucky to the Emergency Room or something instead...” he apologised.

“Woah, Steve, hold on.” she cut in. “I appreciate your concern, truly, but even if _you_ hadn’t considered the consequences, I have, and believe me, I will be taking every precaution to ensure I don’t pass it around any further than it has already spread. And also, by taking Bucky to the hospital, even though it is absolutely the best place for him to be in his current condition, the chances are that somebody would become infected at some stage anyway. It’s just the nature of the disease. It’s probably the most perfectly evolved human virus in that respect. Besides, Bucky’s my friend and he needs help. Now, pass me over so that I can have a word with him because I’m fairly sure that you don’t want to have to pass on this information yourself!” This time, the laugh in her voice was clear, and Steve had to agree. He’d definitely leave this one to her.

 

~ X ~

 

Bucky wasn't really asleep but he was trying, in the desperate hope that he would feel better when he woke up again; but he couldn’t drop off properly. The cramps were starting to build up in his tummy again and he was tired and utterly fed up. The only respite was that he hadn’t had to try drinking anything for the best part of half an hour, and as a result had only dry heaved a few times rather than throwing up yet again.

He could hear his daddy talking to somebody outside the door to his room, but even with his enhanced hearing, he could only make out the odd word, and only his daddy’s voice. Part of him was concerned, wanted to know what was going on, just in case it was bad. But the rest of him simply didn’t have the energy.

By now, Bucky was so thirsty that he felt like he wanted to just put his mouth underneath the faucet and turn it on, drinking until he was completely full. But then the thought of swallowing anything brought the nausea back in a building wave so he forced his mind onto other things and breathed deeply. At least he’d stopped having that horrible rush of saliva when the urge to throw up got strong, and he didn’t have to swallow that. Unfortunately, his tongue felt about two sizes too large for his mouth, which tasted nasty all the time now, and it had an unpleasant tendency to stick to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter.

His room had the unmistakable odor of illness, sweat and unwashed skin, even though he had showered that morning... at least, he thought it was that morning. He’d been feeling so horrid, and now his brain wasn’t thinking clearly, either, much like when he went too hard in the gym or when he ran laps around the block, and Daddy would make him swallow a tube or two of Insta-Glucose.

When Daddy finally came into the room, Bucky saw that he was holding Bucky’s StarkPhone and that he appeared to be in the middle of a call. Confused, he scrunched his face up, until his daddy sat down beside him and held out the phone to him.

“Hey Bucky, Maggie’s on the line. She wants to have a quick word with you. She knows you’re feeling bad and says she has some advice for you, okay?” Daddy said. Bucky took the phone dubiously. He really didn’t feel like speaking to anyone right now, and he was kind of embarrassed that Maggie knew that he’d been a horrible, messy, disgusting boy all day. But when Daddy nodded at him, he slowly lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hi,” he managed to say. His voice sounded like sandpaper. Thankfully, Maggie didn’t seem to expect him to say very much, and just spoke to him softly. When she mentioned his sore bottom, his ears turned scarlet. She didn’t sound like she hated him. In fact, she didn’t even sound like she was discussing something utterly gross. Instead, she told him to be gentle, to use damp paper and to dab gently, not rub, and only to wipe the absolute minimum instead of obsessing over getting clean.

Bucky only managed to croak out a few “uh-huh”s and then she was promising to bring him some cream that would make him a lot more comfortable and some pre-moistened tissues. He frowned, worried that if Maggie came over then she would see him looking sick and disgusting and smelly... but before he could formulate an answer, she’d said goodbye and ended the call.

Bucky looked at the screen for a moment before handing it back to Steve, even though it was his own phone. Steve took it anyway, waiting for the list of items. When it arrived, his eyes crossed as he read through it. _IV cannulas, gloves, J-Tips, saline_... The list seemed to go on forever. He hadn’t realise how much equipment was needed to rehydrate Bucky and stop him from losing more.

Steve shook his head, unable to make head nor tail of medical jargon, and simply forwarded the list to Tony, asking him to pass it on to the physician and to get here as soon as humanly possible. As an afterthought, he asked Tony if he could find out what medication they had given Bucky to help when he first started on some of his tablets and they made him sick to his stomach, and to add that to the list if it wasn’t already on there, along with the dose.

Within a minute, the phone bleeped in his hand again, with Tony asking if they were setting up an entire clinic in their bedroom. Steve was halfway through typing a response with one finger when a second text arrived confirming that the medication that the doctors had given Bucky previously was on the list, and that he’d added the dose. Even though he had emailed his personal physician, he was now getting onto the phone with him to stress the urgency of the situation. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised that he’d been holding. Tony was a sarcastic ass much of the time, but his heart was in the right place.

Bucky whimpering and struggling to throw back the bedclothes brought Steve back to the present in an instant. He hoisted the sick man into his arms, yet again, and carried him back to the bathroom. He swayed dangerously, his legs trembling as Steve set him down, and for a moment he debated staying because Bucky looked ready to collapse, but then Bucky was tugging at his pyjamas as if Steve wasn’t there, and sat down hard onto the toilet. Now that he was more comfortable that Bucky wasn’t about to fall, he stepped away, closing the door behind him.

He was concerned. Bucky hadn’t even asked him to leave. That may just have been that he’d got more comfortable with Steve being around him but instead it felt as though he was less conscious of his surroundings, or just too tired to care. That scared Steve more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, and he was suddenly very glad that medical professionals were on their way to the tower right now. He heard the tap run, and Bucky hiss, before finally the toilet flushed, and he was right by the door when he heard a groan, closely followed by a huge thud.

“Bucky?” Steve yelled, and when an answer didn’t immediately come, he pushed the door open. Bucky was slumped in an awkward pile between the toilet and the sink, his eyes half open but unseeing, out cold. Steve rushed over and slid his fingers into the hollow of his neck, feeling for his pulse. It throbbed under his fingers and Steve let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. Almost immediately, Bucky’s eyelids started to flicker and he moaned, shifting on the hard flooring.

“S’alright, Buck. You just passed out, I think, buddy.” Steve reassured him, biting back the adrenaline, the scare.

Bucky groaned again and rolled over slightly towards Steve before bringing up the small amount of fluid in his stomach. Steve grabbed hold of Bucky’s shoulder in one hand to keep him still, and reached over him for a wad of toilet tissue to absorb the small puddle under Bucky’s face, carefully using a piece to wipe a strand of drool hanging from the corner of his lips. Bucky moved restlessly, clearly uncomfortable on the polished wood beneath him. Steve kept him steady on his side, in case he threw up again, and talked softly to him, telling him that he was safe, that everything was okay, that Daddy was here.

After another minute or two, Bucky’s eyes blinked open, clouded with confusion, even as his daddy smiled reassuringly.

“Daddy...?” he asked, coughing to clear his throat and wincing at both the soreness and the foul taste in his mouth. “Where... what happened?”

“You fainted, I think, Buck. How are you feeling now?” Daddy asked.

Bucky thought for a moment. “Horrible.” he said softly. His daddy made a sympathetic noise and carefully scooped Bucky up into his arms, cradled like an infant against his chest despite his size, and brought him back to the bed. As he tucked the bedclothes around Bucky’s chest and spread the towel back under his chin, he spoke again.

“Please don’t try standing up on your own again, for me, Bucky, okay? If you’re sitting in the bathroom and you feel faint, put your head down between your knees and shout for me,” He paused for a moment, ruffling Bucky’s hair. “I don’t want you hurting yourself by passing out again.”

Bucky nodded, his eyelids already drooping from fatigue, as he felt his daddy’s fingers moving over his scalp and checking for any injuries. Nothing felt tender, at least on his head, though his elbow was feeling a bit bruised from his undignified landing. Once Daddy was satisfied that Bucky hadn’t knocked himself silly when he fell, he spoke again.

“Let’s try a little sip of this drink, Buck. It’s strawberry flavoured and nice and cold now.”

Bucky whimpered, but when a straw appeared near his mouth, he pulled it between his lips and took a tiny suck. He had to admit, it did taste better than the stuff that his daddy had made, and the cool liquid was like a balm to his throat.

“Good boy, Bucky.“ Daddy said, and Bucky rested his head back against the pillow, praying that it would stay down this time. It wasn’t to be, however. By now, Bucky was so exhausted that when the nausea thundered back to full strength, he simply rolled onto his side, not even bothering to prop himself onto his elbow, and tucked his chin over the edge of the bowl. His eyes closed and when he did actually bring up the bright red drink, he barely reacted.

Steve frowned plucking some Kleenex from the box beside the bed to carefully wipe Bucky’s chin as he rolled back onto the pillow. Bucky looked as if he wasn’t entirely with it right now, and he glanced at his watch fretfully. He really hoped that Maggie and this doctor of Stark’s would be here very soon.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science (and Non-Science) Bits
> 
> **_Sonechko_** is a Ukrainian endearment that mothers use for their children. It's literal meaning is "little sun" but it's equivalent of referring to your child as "sunshine".
> 
> **Chlorine based bleach** is one of the few things that will actually disable norovirus. It can resist extremes of temperature, and the only guaranteed way to easily destroy it at home is to use a bleach solution to clean appropriate surfaces. Beyond that, you simply need to wash things thoroughly in warm, soapy water and - basically - try to wash it down the drain. It's a tenacious little thing.
> 
> **Insta-Glucose** (and other products like it) is a glucose gel, designed to quickly be absorbed into the body. It's useful for those with hypoglycemia, diabetes or simply people who tend to push themselves too hard and end up with low blood sugar. However, it's only a temporary fix, and must be followed up by more complex carbs. 
> 
> Bucky's **extreme thirst** and **dry mouth** are big warning signs for dehydration. Along with headache, nausea, muscle cramps, dizziness, weakness and poor skin recoil (that is, if you pinch the skin on the back of your hand, it doesn't immediately spring back, but takes a second or three), these are a sign that you need to replace lost fluids and electrolytes promptly.
> 
> It's not uncommon to **faint** during bouts of illness, particularly gastroenteritis or other illnesses where dehydration occurs. Steve mostly had the right idea for Bucky, but also made some mistakes - probably simply based on outdated advice.
> 
> If someone suffers a faint **(syncope)** they usually start to come around fairly quickly - often as soon as they fall. It's caused, in most cases, by not enough blood - and therefore oxygen and glucose - getting to the brain, and as soon as the person is horizontal, blood flow improves and they wake up. However, if they are still **not fully conscious** , or they are **vomiting/likely to vomit** , turn them onto their side, with their head tilted back or place them into the **[recovery position](http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Accidents-and-first-aid/Pages/The-recovery-position.aspx)** if you are able. Once the person is fully awake, you can turn them onto their back and raise their feet higher than their head on any available object - pillows, books, a person, whatever is around. Once the person starts to feel better, gradually sit them up, very slowly, and if they start to feel faint again, return them to lying flat with their feet raised. Unless the cause of the faint is already diagnosed, it's advisable to seek medical advice, particularly if the person is otherwise unwell, running a fever, has any pain or discomfort or is slow to recover
> 
> If you begin to feel faint while sitting on a chair or the toilet, **do not** do what Steve told Bucky to do. If you place your head down between your knees in this position, and then do actually faint, you will simply land on your head and face, and possibly injure yourself quite badly. **If possible,** lie down, raise your feet and wait until you are feeling better. If that's **not possible** (such as if you are stuck on the toilet like Bucky) then take some deep breaths, try to raise your feet as much as possible, wiggle your toes and clench the muscles in your calves and thighs, and - if possible - call for help, or ask somebody to stay with you in case you do lose consciousness. 
> 
> If you are in public or **cannot fully lie down** , crouching down onto your heels can sometimes be helpful, as well as less noticeable. Alternatively, sit with your back against a wall or supporting person, your knees bent, and **only then** , place your head between your knees - you are unlikely to injure yourself if you do faint.
> 
> There are **[many reasons](http://patient.info/health/faintcollapse#nav-2)** for fainting, aside from dehydration or viral illnesses. In **most** cases, it's something as simple as hunger, heat or standing still for too long. But if you suffer **regular** fainting or near-fainting/feeling faint **(presyncope)** , then you should always **see your doctor** to rule out any serious issues.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for the kudos, comments, bookmarks etc. Kudos is always awesome, and comments make me smile, however short they are. Thank you all so much for continuing to read and follow this story. I honestly didn't think anyone would stick with it, so it means the world to me. :)
> 
>  **Warnings:** The usual suspects - no real grossness, a bit of angst.  
>     
> 

 

It was around six o’clock when the doctor finally arrived at the tower. Tony met him at the elevator on the common level, and helped him shift several boxes of medical equipment onto the dining table. Tony had crossed paths with Dr. Horatio Castle when The Avengers had needed to step in and assist The X-Men with a situation a year back. A medical practitioner with experience of enhanced humans and who was happy to work under the radar, if the need (and salary) was great enough, was boon to the team as a whole, and Tony as an individual. 

He wasn’t Tony’s regular physician, specialising in those instances that needed something done a little more quietly instead. Regardless of when Tony called on his services, he always arrived wearing smart slacks and a buttoned shirt, or a suit and tie, and had procured a number of items and medication in the past for various members of the team with no questions asked. Even today, when Tony had dropped a list a foot long with little explanation, he had come through; it had taken the promise of Tony's assistance in searching through some of the more secure Homeland Security and CIA files for his pet project in order to get him here within an hour. Apparently, he’d had to pull in a couple of favours of his own. Tony would ensure that he was well compensated. 

While they waited for Maggie to arrive, Tony explained what he knew of Bucky’s illness to Horatio. He listened intently, his green eyes fixed on Tony, and when he finished talking, Horatio ran his hands over his salt-and-pepper hair. 

“I don’t get why he’s so sick though, Doc,” Tony added. “I know he got the crazy Soviet knock off serum instead of the real deal, but I would have thought that if he got sick, then he’d only get a mild case of stomach flu.”

When Horatio spoke, his carefully modulated English accent was thoughtful. 

“Some of the symptoms of gastroenteritis are caused by the death of the cells in the gut, and while this can be partially be down to the virus, the rest is down to the body’s immune system trying to get rid of the infected cells. If this serum that he was given wasn’t enough to prevent him from contracting the initial infection, but still boosted his immune response to viral infections, then it would make sense that he might have a shorter illness, but be proportionally sicker during that time. It’s a bit like cramming three days of illness into twenty four hours.” he hypothesised. Tony nodded. It made sense. 

“Pardon the interruption, Sir,” JARVIS said, “but it appears that Ms Maggie Grey has arrived in the lobby.”

“Thanks, Jar,” Tony replied, clapping his hands together. “Send her up here, would you?”

“Certainly, Sir,” he replied. In a minute or two, their attention was drawn towards the ding of the elevator, and Tony loped over to meet this woman that Bucky had spoken about so frequently since Clint’s accident. 

The doors slid back to reveal a fairly petite woman a few inches shorter than Tony. A rich russet hijab was draped over her head and shoulders, above a black buttoned blouse and a pair of pale blue jeans. A pair of red and white sneakers finished her outfit. Over one shoulder she carried a large tan leather purse. Tony, despite his reputation, wasn’t as culturally blind as many might assume. Rather than offer her his hand to shake, he instead lifted his right hand and placed it over his heart, bowing slightly while he met her eyes.

“Tony Stark,” he introduced himself with a stunning smile. “You must be Maggie. Bucksicle talks about you a lot.”

Maggie grinned back, genuinely touched, and returned the gesture.

“All good, I hope? And thank you for the greeting. I’m quite comfortable shaking hands, but it’s always a pleasure.” Tony stretched out his arm, gesturing towards the table where Horatio sat, and followed her to the table. “This is Dr. Horatio Castle. Horatio, this is Maggie Grey.” The two medical professionals nodded at each other.

“How’s Bucky?” she asked, getting right to the point.

“JARVIS?” Tony asked.

“Master Barnes suffered an episode of syncope approximately twenty seven minutes ago, and has currently lost an estimated seven thousand one hundred millilitres of fluid with a margin of error of nine hundred millilitres. His body temperature is currently one hundred and two point three degrees Fahrenheit.” JARVIS replied. Tony whistled in astonishment.

“This started when?” Horatio asked. 

“11:19am,” JARVIS clarified.

“He’s currently around one-oh-nine kilos, but he has suffered a high transhumeral or possibly an interscapulothoracic amputation of the left arm and replacement with a cybernetic metal limb. Taking that into account, his actual biological mass is probably around eighty kilos give or take.” Maggie told Horatio. Horatio nodded and quickly pulled out a pencil and notepad, scribbling down some calculations. 

“Sound’s like you’ve already worked out a treatment plan.” he said, and she began running through her ideas. Horatio hummed at each stage, double checking her calculations along the way, until she’d finished.

“Sounds good. I managed to pick up the things you asked for, but Tony owes me now!” he replied, winking at her while Tony looked slightly askance. Maggie glanced over the table, checking that everything appeared to be accounted for. Immediately, she started opening outer cartons, making a pile of what she needed, and drawing up medication into various syringes, carefully labelling them. 

“Tony, could you find me a tray that I can carry these things on, please?” she asked and he stood, heading towards the kitchen and reaching up to grasp the one that had the high raised edges. When he placed it beside her, she carefully arranged everything in the order she wanted, including several items from inside her purse, and then started stacking bags of IV fluids into Tony’s arms.

“Hey, no, whoa!” Tony stepped back, shaking his head. “I may be kinda fond of the kid, but I think I’ll stay up here where it’s safe, thanks. I’ll leave Typhoid Marty to you, Steve and the good doctor here.”

Maggie fixed him with a piercing glare that even Pepper would have been proud of.

“I hate to burst your bubble of ignorance,  _ Mr Stark _ ,” she bit out his name, “but the chances are that everyone in this tower who has been in contact with Bucky in the last day has probably already been infected with this virus. Sufferers are contagious up to a day before the symptoms show, and for at least a couple more days after the symptoms abate. In some cases, they can be carriers without even knowing it for weeks or even months. In addition, the virus can resist most cleaning products, as well as freezing and temperatures of up to a hundred and forty degrees Fahrenheit. Droplets containing the virus can be spread to any and every surface, and survive there for days or even weeks. And on top of that, it’s incredibly infectious; it takes as few as seven tiny virus particles to cause an infection, when there can be billions in each gram of infected bodily fluids.” 

Tony paled under his carefully maintained tan, dumping the IV bags back onto the table and digging into his pockets for the small bottle of hand sanitiser he kept on him at all times. Even as he squirted the gel into his palm and started rubbing into his skin, Maggie smirked.

“I’m afraid not even that will help.” she told him, tipping her head towards the sanitiser. “It doesn’t kill the virus, and antibacterial products are useless against viruses, which are the cause of the vast majority of stomach upsets. Norovirus, in particular, causes 90% of the outbreaks of so-called ‘stomach flu’ which is a complete misnomer, as it’s utterly unrelated to influenza.” Tony groaned, his head falling back and eyes closing for a moment. Maggie looked over towards Horatio, and they shared an amused smirk. 

“Fine, Fine!” Tony lifted his hands placatingly. “I’ll carry the bags. But I’m not setting foot past that bedroom door, capisce?” Maggie smiled sweetly and started piling the fluids back into his arms, ignoring the mumbling under his breath about slave-drivers and sadists.

“I don’t imagine that Bucky will let you anywhere near him, Horatio,” she said, standing up and grabbing the tray while the doctor picked up his medical bag. “But I will try and get a blood sample so we can check his electrolyte profile. He’s not a big fan of the medical profession at the best of times.” 

The door to the elevator slid open as soon as the trio approached, and they stepped inside for the brief ride to Steve and Bucky’s floor, where a very stressed super soldier was waiting and would be very pleased that the backup had, at last, arrived.

 

~ X ~

 

JARVIS’s pronouncement of the imminent arrival of both Maggie and Tony’s doctor almost caused Steve to hyperventilate in relief. Only a few minutes before, Bucky had moaned, clutching his stomach and begging his daddy to take him to the bathroom, and this time, Steve actually had to hold him up while he dropped his shorts, his knees having given way under his own weight. Even after he’d lowered Bucky onto the seat, the second that he’d tried stepping away Bucky had lurched sideways, lacking the strength even to hold himself upright properly; so Steve had stayed, closing his eyes and reciting the Gettysburg Address under his breath in an attempt to convince himself that he was giving Bucky as much privacy as he could. 

Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t have enough energy to complain, but he was torn between the humiliation of having someone else in the bathroom with him, even if it was his daddy, and the terror of slipping or fainting again and especially if... he squeezed his eyes tightly together and shook his head, refusing to think of the consequences. That would be  _ even more _ mortifying than having his daddy holding him up while he went to the bathroom. When he was finally done, JARVIS had once more turned on the water for him, ready to clean himself up. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t even feel like he had enough water left inside him to make tears any more. He’d never felt such raging thirst in his life, but even thinking about swallowing made him momentarily gag. He shook his head again, reaching behind himself to flush and then stretching to grasp the waistband of his pull up and pyjama pants. 

“Done, Daddy,” he said, tugging on his daddy’s arm with his metal hand. Steve finally looked down at Bucky again before he helped him up, locking his arms around his chest underneath Bucky’s arms, and taking his weight so that Bucky could redress and quickly wash his hands. Then, before the wooziness could take Bucky again, his daddy had lifted him back into his arms and carried him back to the bed, once more tucking him in. It was just as he’d finished smoothing the towel back under his chin that JARVIS spoke up.

“Captain Rogers, Sir is currently bringing Ms Grey and Dr. Castle to your floor.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he replied quietly, closing his eyes for a minute and running through the relaxation exercise that his S.H.I.E.L.D. therapist had taught him, back when his nightmares regularly left him waking in the midst of panic attacks that reminded him far too closely of his asthma before the serum and struggling to draw air into his constricted lungs. Once he felt like he wouldn’t simply burst into tears at the sight of help, he stood up.

“I’ll be right back, Buck,” he promised when Bucky whimpered. “Maggie’s here. She’s going to help you feel better, okay, buddy?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes closed, and Steve crossed the room in a second. Maggie was already heading along the hall, with a slender middle aged man behind her, and Tony lagging at the rear, his arms filled with transparent bags of water, or so it appeared. Steve reached for the tray in her purple gloved hands, and she let him take it, promptly curling her fingers around his forearms and squeezing.

“Steve. How are you holding up?” she asked, scanning his face, and Steve swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“Better now that you’re here,” he admitted. “He’s really sick, Maggie. He passed out earlier, an’ he can’t even hold himself upright without help now. You hafta help him.” Even to his own ears, the tone of his voice was starting to border on hysterical. Maggie nodded, running a hand up his arm.

“Don’t worry, Steve. We’ll get him fixed.” she reassured him, leading him back towards the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science and Not-So-Science stuff!
> 
> Hello, **Horatio**! As the doctor kindly explained, many of the symptoms of common illnesses, including **gastroenteritis, colds and bacterial infections,** are caused not only by the **effect of the organism** itself damaging cells in your body, but the steps that your own **immune system** goes through to try and destroy them. This is why people with **suppressed immunity** may actually have an infection but lack symptoms such as a fever, if their immune system isn't strong enough to trigger a proper response. Similarly, **over-reaction** of the immune system can cause things such as **allergies** (where antibodies form against harmless things such as nuts or wasp venom), **autoimmune diseases** (where the immune system forms antibodies against your own body instead of invading bugs) and so on. The idea of strengthening the immune system always being good is incorrect and potentially risky.
> 
> The immune system is very complex. There are **many parts** \- some are **quick reactions** to any warning sign of illness or injury. Some are **slower** to react. Some are **short term** and some are **long term** immunity. Some are **generic** and some are **specific** to not only one bug, but one strain of a bug. This is why you need a **flu shot** every year, and why **norovirus immunity** only lasts a few months. The viruses for both of these **shift** how they look on the outside very rapidly - and, like **changing the locks** on your house, when these surface appearances change, the antibodies you previously formed will no longer fit, just like an old key won't open your new lock. 
> 
> **Maggie's** description of norovirus is accurate. While it's **not truly airborne** , like flu or colds, **droplets** of vomit (particularly) or feces can be spread into the air, land on surfaces that you then touch and **swallow** and so on. Because it is both highly **contagious** (it can be spread from person to person) and highly **infectious** (it only needs a tiny number of virus particles to cause illness in most people) - the two words **are not interchangeable** or synonymous - and can last in the environment for **weeks or months** , it's incredibly easy to spread in places such as cruise ships, hospitals, schools or daycare centres etc. 
> 
> In one case, a **single incident** of vomiting in a [restaurant](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norovirus#Transmission) caused an outbreak of **126+ people** and it was possible to estimate how far away each person who became ill was, based upon how many at their table became ill ( **90-25%** ). A sick person infects, on average, **14** other people.
> 
> Maggie would like to make it known that she's actually a **"Mrs"** , but JARVIS insists on using **Ms** to refer to all females, in general. She also originally hails from **Ukraine** , not Russia as Steve thought.
> 
> The issue of **intergender touching** (i.e. between men and women) is one common to several religious and societal groups, particularly Orthodox Judaism and Islam. The **greeting** Tony uses here is common polite way to greet anyone if **handshaking** may be an issue. But otherwise, it's probably best to simply **follow the lead** of the other person (or to ask them, if appropriate). 
> 
> A **transhumeral** amputation is one that cuts through the upper arm bone (the humerus) and an **interscapulothoracic** amputation, also called a **forequarter amputation** , is a far more invasive process, where the **entire shoulder** is removed, including the **scapula** (shoulder blade), **clavicle** (collar bone) and much of the **musculature** surrounding the shoulder joint. It's **rarely performed** these days. Although Bucky's **initial injury** was transhumeral, his prosthetic and reinforcements may have extended the amputation into the shoulder.
> 
> When **calculating medical doses** for Bucky, his **actual weight** is not accurate. His **metal arm** and **reinforcing implants** can't process or store drugs and fluids like **body tissues** can, and so although he canonically weighs **260 lbs (118 kg)** , a large portion of that would have been the **metal**. It's highly likely in the **MCU** that his arm isn't something light like **vibranium or adamantium** , so a reasonable estimate would mean he has the fluid stores of a **180lb/80kg** person, not a 240lb one (after **losing some muscle mass** ).
> 
> One final **flu vaccine** fact. You **can't catch flu from the shots**. All flu shots contain either "dead" virus particles, or bits of them made in a lab. While the nasal spray contains a "live" form, the virus is changed so that it cannot cause actual illness. If you get flu after the shot, you were either already infected, or caught a strain not covered by the vaccine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, wonderful readers. Feeding the author makes for happy author and makes me get my backside in gear and write more! xx
> 
>  **Warnings:** Another chapter without grossness, but some medical procedures, general angst.  
>     
> 

 

Before Maggie stepped inside, she stuck her head around the door-frame and called out.

“Hi Bucky, it’s Maggie. Are you with us?” she asked. Bucky slowly turned his head towards her, his eyes hooded, and nodded listlessly. He was so sleepy.

“I’m going to come over to see you, but I have to put a mask over my nose and mouth. But it’s still me, alright? Nobody else is going to come in unless you say they can.” she explained, reaching into her jeans and pulling out a surgical mask, holding it up so that he could see it across the room. It had bears printed across it, and he forced his eyes to focus as she hooked the elastic loops over her ears, covering her lower face. He nodded again, and she walked across the room. Steve followed close behind, carrying the tray and Bucky tracked them both with hazy eyes. Lowering herself down on her hands, she sat heavily on the edge of the bed, her left leg sitting at a slightly awkward angle and stretched out in front of her stiffly. She reached for his hand, her own gloved one looking tiny against his, letting her fingers brush across the inside of his wrist and casually feeling for his pulse.

“So, I know you’re feeling really sick, but how is Bucky Bear? Is he feeling sick too?” she asked, seriously, as she reached to brush his hair away from his forehead. Bucky nodded. Bucky Bear was still refusing to talk, just grizzling and growling quietly to himself. Maggie nodded in response.

“May I hold him?” she asked, and Bucky passed him over. She sat him carefully in her lap, and stroked his ears between her thumbs and forefingers.

“Are you all crampy and nauseous too, Bucky Bear?” she asked him, and tilted her head. Bucky thought that she probably couldn’t speak Bear; although she seemed to be listening, she didn’t seem to hear Bucky Bear’s answer, so he repeated it to her.

“He says his stuffing feels like it’s in the tumble drier,” Bucky’s voice cracked, his throat parched, but Maggie just raised a finger, as though struck by an idea.

“I think I know what’s wrong with you, Bucky Bear,” she said, rubbing his furry tummy with her fingertips. “You’ve got a Bad Bearlly Ache.” she announced, with a decisive nod.

“Can you fix him?” Bucky asked, his forehead wrinkling in worry. A Bad Bearlly Ache sounded serious. Maggie smiled.

“I can fix him up in a jiffy,” she announced. “But I need you to be brave Bucky Bear, while I put a little plastic line into your paw. Can you do that for me?”

Bucky Bear didn’t like the idea very much. It sounded like it would hurt and reminded him of the bad doctors back when Hydra had him. But he puffed out his chest because he was the bravest bear there was.

“He says okay... it’s not going to hurt though, is it?” Bucky asked, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He decided it would be best not to inform her of Bucky Bear's addendum to the question. Bucky Bear had announced that he wasn't afraid, because he was far too brave for that, but because he didn't want to have to bite Maggie in retaliation; he rather liked liked her. 

“It won’t hurt,” Maggie reassured Bucky Bear. “At the most you’ll feel a little pinch on your fur, but after that, it will be fine.”

Movement at his open door caught Bucky’s attention, and he stiffened up at the sight of a stranger watching the proceedings. Maggie passed Bucky Bear back into Bucky’s lap and he pulled him tightly into his chest, staring warily. She placed a hand on top of Bucky’s and spoke gently.

“It’s alright, Bucky. That’s Dr. Castle. He’s not going to come into the room unless you say he can. He just wants to make sure that you’re okay, as well as Bucky Bear,” she said. Horatio smiled, moving slowly so that Bucky could predict his intentions.

“Hi Bucky. I hear that you’ve been throwing up,” he said. As he spoke, he brought his hands in front of his body, fingers pointing away from himself, and the thumb of his left hand meeting the pinky finger of his right, while his right thumb rested near his mouth, before moving both hands out and down in a sweeping arc.

Bucky nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead, he repeated the gesture, then formed his right hand into a claw, circling it clockwise, palm towards him, over his tummy before holding his open left hand perpendicular to himself with the thumb upwards and then rapidly flicking the thumb of his open right hand off the bottom edge several times. Next, he pointed at his head with both index fingers extended from his fists, twisting his hands in opposite directions twice, then held the same two fingers in front of him, the right held horizontally behind the vertical left finger, in the shape of a cross, and slid the right finger up to the top of the left, forming a letter T, down to the bottom and back to the top again. Finally, he let his hands fall to his sides, exhausted by those few movements, and his eyes drifted shut.

“I didn’t know you could sign, Bucky,” Maggie said quietly, glancing up at Steve from her place beside him, her eyebrows raised. Bucky barely twitched his shoulders in a shrug.

“He started learning when Clint was injured,” Steve explained, his eyes fixed on Bucky in concern, “but I didn’t realise he’d picked up that much either.”

“I found them holding a conversation in the range a couple of weeks ago; I thought you knew,” Tony said softly, leaning his back against the door-frame. “I knew Horatio could sign, so I mentioned that kiddo might be more comfortable communicating with an unfamiliar person with sign instead of verbally, especially now,” He shrugged and turned back to the StarkPhone in his hand.

Normally, Bucky hated it when people spoke about him as if he wasn’t there, but right now, he just wanted to rest for a while. He simply didn’t have the energy to be irritated. After another second, Maggie cleared her throat and returned to the task at hand.

“Okay. Steve, could you please put the tray here,” she asked, patting the bed beside her, “and then could you bring me Dr. Castle’s pulse ox, sphyg and glucose monitor?”

Horatio immediately opened his medical bag, pulling out the requested equipment, and handing it to Steve. He placed it beside the tray and folded his arms around himself.

“Bucky, are you still awake?” she asked, and he nodded, forcing his eyes open. She smiled at him, and held up a piece of equipment. “I need to get your blood pressure quickly. This just goes around your wrist, and it will get really tight for a bit, but it will take less than a minute. Is that alright?”

“Is it going to make me better?” he asked, plaintively, and she nodded firmly.

“It’s going to help make you better, yes, Bucky,” she replied. Bucky sighed, then nodded his assent. She slid it around his wrist, fastening the Velcro snugly, and brought his hand up to rest it on his chest. “Try and stay as still as you can until it goes soft again, okay?”

Despite knowing it was coming, the rapid tightening of the gadget around his wrist startled him, but he gritted his teeth, even though his hand was quickly throbbing from the pressure. Just when he thought he couldn’t cope with it any more, struggling against the urge to rip it apart with his metal fingers, it suddenly went slack with an almost silent hiss of releasing air, and he drew in a few quick breaths, trying to settle the panic in his chest.

“Seventy over fifty-two, pulse one-twenty six,” she read aloud for the benefit of Horatio, as she ripped the Velcro pieces apart and placed it back onto the tray of items. She picked up the next gadget, and placed it on her own finger in demonstration. “This one just sits on your fingertip, Bucky. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Bucky nodded. If Maggie was doing it to herself, it couldn’t be too uncomfortable. And, as she’d said, it just sat there, a weight on his finger tip, with numbers flashing on the little LED screen. After a minute or so, she removed it, turned to the doctor and shook her head minutely. Unfortunately, Steve caught the gesture and dread bloomed in his chest.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his gaze flicking between Horatio and Maggie as he tried to keep his voice steady.

“It’s not a big problem, Steve,” Maggie replied, turning to meet his eyes steadily. “It’s just where he’s so dry, it’s making it hard for the device to get a decent reading. But it’s not vital.”

Steve took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, before he let it out noisily and nodded. Maggie turned back to Bucky.

“Bucky Bear, can I go ahead and set that tube up to make you feel better?” Maggie asked, and when Bucky nodded, she reached for Bucky Bear, settling him steadily in her lap. She reached to the tray, and pulled a transparent and orange tube with measurement markings on the side into her hand. Holding it so that Bucky and Bucky Bear could both see it, she explained its purpose.

“This will make your paw nice and numb so that you won’t feel anything when I put the plastic tube in. It doesn’t really hurt much anyway, but this helps make sure that it won’t hurt at all. It will put some medicine into your arm. There’s no needle involved, it uses compressed air to push it into your skin. Okay so far?” she clarified. Bucky nodded. “When it gets activated, it sounds a bit like when you open a can of soda. There’s a pop and a hiss of gas, just so that you know. Can I go ahead and use this on your paw, Bucky Bear?”

Bucky nodded slowly, and watched closely while Maggie pressed the plastic device against Bucky Bear’s paw. As she’d said, there was a pop, a hiss, and then it was done. Bucky Bear hadn’t growled or tried to sink his teeth into Maggie’s good leg, so presumably it hadn’t hurt. She turned, dropping the used cartridge into a red plastic box with the word ‘sharps’ written across the yellow label. When she turned back, she had what Bucky was already certain was a needle in her hand, even if it seemed to have plastic wings at the side. Even though it wasn’t going into him, his pulse started to hammer even faster in his ears. Maggie moved it out of his line of sight, and paused.

“You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to Bucky. If you prefer, you can simply close your eyes and it will all be over by the time you count to ten.” she told him.

Bucky considered it, but the idea of anyone doing medical things, things with needles, when he couldn’t make sure that they weren’t doing something like trying to knock him out, made him shake his head firmly. Bucky Bear reminded him that he needed Bucky to make sure that Maggie didn’t get up to any funny business while she was supposed to be making him better. Bucky felt a little guilty - Maggie was trying to help and Bucky Bear was being rude, even if he did have a Bad Bearlly Ache.

“Need to watch,” he told her, and she nodded, bringing the cannula back out.

“Alright Bucky Bear. You shouldn’t feel anything now but if you want me to stop, just say so. But please don’t pull your paw away, you might hurt yourself or me if you do. You can go ahead and cover his eyes if Bucky Bear doesn’t want to watch,” she told Bucky. He nodded, using his hand to cup over Bucky Bear’s eyes and watched as Maggie carefully slipped the cannula into his paw. Bucky Bear didn’t even seem to notice.

“The needle doesn’t stay in your paw, so you can’t poke yourself if you move your arm.” she explained, pressing a folded square of gauze against the insertion site and quickly slipping the needle out from the plastic cannula and into the sharps box, It only took a moment to apply an adhesive dressing to fasten it to Bucky Bear’s paw. “But try not to lean on it or knock it too much, otherwise it may come out or get uncomfortable.” She carefully wrapped a length of gauze bandage around the dressing, and tied it snugly.

“There we go. You can look now, Bucky Bear. The worst is over now. I just need to clip this bit of tube to this little hub here,” she explained as she attached the IV tubing to the cannula, “and there... I can start Bucky Bear’s fluids. Now, because he’s a very special and a very sick bear, we need to give him a hand as he can’t osmose his honey very well. So instead, we’re going to give it to him directly.” With that, she tore off a piece of medical tape and produced an individual sachet of honey from beneath some of the other items on the tray, attaching it to the tube to replicate the appearance of an IV bag.

“Manuka honey is a very special honey indeed. We use it in the hospital to help fix infections that even our strongest medicines can’t get rid of, so this will have Bucky Bear feeling better in no time.” she told him, and sat Bucky Bear upright on the pillow next to Bucky’s head, resting the honey IV on top of the headboard. Finally, she took his hand. “How about you, Bucky? Can I put a pair of tubes into your arm so that we can make you feel better?”

Bucky looked away, chewing his lip. He was so exhausted, so fed up of feeling shivery and queasy, crampy and sore. He looked up at her, torn.

“Can you stop me throwing up all the time?” he asked, and she nodded.

“We can give you some medicine to help with that, as well as to help settle your tummy down too.” Bucky couldn’t help blushing. It was embarrassing, so many people were there, and she was talking about bathroom stuff. But he was so, so tired of it all. Bucky Bear must have been feeling better already, because he said that he’d make sure that nothing bad happened if Bucky needed to close his eyes.

“‘Kay,” he said, reaching for his daddy’s hand. Steve was there instantly, dropping to his knees beside Bucky and stroking his head. Bucky nuzzled into the caress.

“Good boy, Bucky,” Steve said, “you’re being so brave today. I’m so proud of you.”

Maggie was carefully clipping a piece of elastic around Bucky’s bicep, tightening it until it began to bite into the skin. “This isn’t particularly nice, I know, Bucky, but it will help me find the easiest spot to use.” she told him, and Bucky nodded. His daddy squeezed his shoulder gently, as Maggie changed her gloves to a pair inside a packet that she had just peeled open and began to palpate the inside of his forearm. Once she had found what she was after, she steadied his arm between her knees and loosened the tourniquet, tearing open a pair of alcohol swabs to wipe over his skin. She picked up one of the orange tubes, this time filled with liquid, and looked into his eyes.

“This won’t hurt, remember, Just a pop, then a hiss, like opening a coke. Okay?” she checked.

Bucky nodded, clenching his jaw. He felt pressure on his skin, like someone pushing the flat end of a pencil against it, then heard the device go off, followed a moment later by the second one on the other side of his forearm. He pulled in a breath. The pain he’d expected failed to appear, and he let his head relax into the pillow, closing his eyes for a second. He heard a few packets open, as Maggie set out the things she needed now, and only opened his eyes when Daddy touched his cheek and nodded towards Maggie.

“I’m going to go ahead and put those tubes into your arm now, Bucky. If you don’t think you can look, your Daddy can cover your eyes for you, and Bucky Bear will make sure that nothing bad happens.”

Bucky Bear agreed. Between him and Daddy, they would make sure that nobody did anything to hurt Bucky. So he nodded, turning away as Maggie tightened the elastic again, and his daddy cupped his hand gently over his closed lids, murmuring affirmations softly. After a minute or so of gentle prodding, Bucky was starting to get antsy. It seemed to be taking forever. When Bucky Bear had his done, it was over really quickly.

What if Bucky’s veins weren’t right somehow? What if the serum had damaged them and Maggie couldn’t get the tubes to work? He could feel his pulse quicken, his breath coming even shorter than it had been all day, and then he felt the elastic around his arm unknot, and Maggie smoothing the transparent adhesive dressings she’d demonstrated earlier onto his arm around the cannulas,

“Is it done?” he asked, confused, and his daddy chuckled.

“Yes, Buck. They’re all in now, buddy.”

“But I didn’t even feel anything!” he said and Maggie smiled at him as she wrapped gauze bandages around his forearm to reinforce the dressings.

“Then I did my job right.” she told him, turning away briefly to reach towards the tray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science bits
> 
> This story now has a subtitle: **_Nurse Maggie and The Bad Bearlly Ache!_** *grins*
> 
> As previously stated, norovirus **isn't airborne**. However, by using the surgical mask, Maggie **reduces the likelihood** of touching her lips or mouth with **contaminated** hands, or having tiny, microscopic **droplets** land on her lips where they can be swallowed if Bucky **vomits** or when he **flushes** the toilet. The **plume** of droplets during a flush can reach **15 feet high** and be spread outwards on air currents. Ideally, you should flush with the **toilet lid closed**.
> 
> Maggie suffered a **transfemoral** (above knee) amputation as a result of a **landmine** incident aged thirteen, back in Ukraine. While she has the best **prostheses** generally available, her particular case, and the general issues of using a leg prosthesis mean that she often relies on a **wheelchair** when at home. It also means that **sitting and standing** can be rather awkward and prosthetic knee joints will often either lock straight or rock freely when sitting. (Thanks to **VoiceOfNurse** , as always, for loaning her and Horatio!)
> 
> Horatio speaks a number of **languages** , including **ASL, Langue des Signes and BSL**. Bucky learned ASL from Clint. In this chapter, he wasn't using properly formatted sentences, but he gave the signs for [vomiting](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/50932/vomit-american-english), [stomach ache](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/50825/stomach-ache-american-english), [diarrhoea](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/91741/diarrhea-american-english), [headache](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/48493/headache-american-english) and [fever](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/48487/fever-american-english).
> 
> A **blood glucose monitor** or glucometer uses a single drop of blood (usually from a finger prick) on a disposable test strip, which is then read by a handheld device and gives the level of glucose in the blood. They are commonly used by **diabetics** to monitor their sugar levels at home, and often used by **GPs and ambulance personnel** to get a reading where lab testing isn't available or fast. Normal levels depend upon many factors, but in non-diabetics, normal values are usually **4-7.8 mmol/l (72-140 mg/dl)**. 
> 
> Bucky gets **hypoglycemia** (low blood sugar), because his metabolism is also faster than unenhanced humans, so he uses glucose much faster and has to eat more. Vomiting will inevitably worsen this. It causes symptoms like **shakiness, nausea, hunger, irritability, sweating, pallor, lightheadedness, blurry vision** and can be mistaken for **drunkenness**. If untreated, it can lead to **unconsciousness, seizures and death**. If the person is **conscious** , feed them something **sugary** such as soda (not diet), glucose/dextrose products, candy. Don't **ever** do this for an **unconscious person**. When recovered, follow it up with **a meal with complex carbs** such as a sandwich. If they are semi/unconscious, or cannot eat then call for an **ambulance**.
> 
> A sphyg ( **sphygmomanometer** ) tests **blood pressure** , either manually with a stethoscope or electronically. The top number, called the **systolic** , is the pressure at the moment your heart contracts. The bottom number, the **diastolic** , is the pressure between heartbeats. The values, as well as the differences between them or on different limbs, can help with many diagnoses. Normal pressure varies around **120/80** , and pulse around **70bpm** for an average adult. But both can vary a lot.
> 
> Bucky is **hypotensive** (has low blood pressure) as a result of **hypovolemia** (that is, the **dehydration** means he doesn't have enough volume in his blood vessels) causing **dizziness, weakness, confusion, exhaustion, rapid pulse, fainting** etc. It also means that the **pulse oximeter** , which tests the concentration of oxygen in the blood, can't work because his body is keeping the blood to supply his **vital organs** , so the device can't get a reading from **extremities** like fingers. The fix, in this case, is to replenish the missing fluids. He's also **tachycardic** , because his pulse is over 100 bpm while resting, for the same reason - hypovolemia.
> 
> Most people cope with having an **IV** placed without any **local anaesthetic** , but **options** include **creams** which are left on for up to an hour, using **super fine needles** to give lidocaine or saline, or devices like **JTip** to provide temporary numbness. It's very useful with **nervous or young patients**. Usually two lines would be placed in **different limbs** , but because of his **missing arm and issues with medics** , it was easiest to place them in **two different veins** in the same arm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to people reading, commenting and giving kudos! xx
> 
>  **Warnings:** Back to the grossness, flashbacks, memories of sexual assault, more angst, and continuing medical procedures. There is another warning that I didn't really felt deserved a tag, but rather than spoil anything, click here if you're particularly squeamish about tummies.  
>     
> 

 

As Maggie picked up a large, empty syringe, and turned back towards Bucky, she explained the next step.

“I need to take a little bit of blood, Bucky,” she told him; immediately his eyes opened wide and he shook his head frantically.

“Woah, Bucky... Buck, calm down, buddy,” Steve soothed, capturing Bucky’s chin and turning him to face him. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, lamb,”

“Not supposed to, I need it, can’t live without my blood, don’t make me go without again, they’ll use it all up, they’ll steal all my blood, no, Daddy, bad, can’t, have to keep them away from my blood...” Bucky babbled frantically. Steve drew in a sharp breath; when Bucky first arrived, he’d briefly suffered with Cotard’s Syndrome, believing that he had no blood flowing through his body. Apparently, that fear was still lurking not far from his conscious mind, despite his medication.

In the end, it was only with Steve pulling Bucky against his chest, squeezing him tightly and rocking, that he started to calm down a little, his whole body shaking in exhaustion. Steve looked over at Maggie.

“Is it absolutely necessary?” he asked her. Maggie sighed, rubbing the side of her face with her shoulder to avoid contaminating her sterile gloves.

“I won’t make you do anything that you really don’t want to do, Bucky, but you’re really very sick right now. We need to make completely sure that we’re giving you the right amount of everything. Otherwise we might just end up making you even sicker by accident.” she explained.

Bucky whimpered into his daddy’s shoulder. Bucky Bear was telling him that having his blood taken was dangerous, and he couldn’t let anyone else get it, but Maggie was saying she needed it to make him better. He looked up at his daddy, his eyes begging for advice.

“Bucky...” His daddy paused, his voice breaking, and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Bucky, I know you’re scared and that’s okay. I know you want to be careful, too, but this is different. You’re really sick, buddy, and we need to do this so you can get better. I’ll make sure that nobody bad gets your blood, and Maggie will only take as little as she has to, okay, Buck? Please, sweetheart?”

Bucky watched his daddy stiffen at his own words. Daddy didn’t often call him sweetheart. When Bucky was big, Daddy had explained that he didn’t want to remind Bucky about the time he spent with Pierce, because Daddy never knew what endearments _he_ had made mockery of in the past with his abuse. When it did slip out, Daddy was usually really worried about him. Bucky bit his lip and looked down at his arm. If his daddy needed him to be brave, then he could do this.

Bucky Bear would be mad, but Bucky nodded jerkily and held his arm out again to Maggie. She nodded back, wiping the plastic surface with another alcohol swab, and carefully attached the syringe to the grey port on one of his IVs. As she steadily withdrew the plunger, dark red blood swirled into the empty chamber before Maggie detached the syringe, putting it aside.

Bucky felt his stomach shifting at the sight, and swallowed several times. The Soldier could cope with blood. He could cope himself when he was big; he had a flash of memory, remembered washing it off of his daddy often enough when he was still tiny and breathless. But when Bucky was little, like now, just a glimpse of red made him queasy, even on a good day. It brought back too many memories from his time as the Asset with Hydra and the things he had done. Maggie was busy, and he didn’t want to puke while she was there with him and trying to make him better. She picked up a couple of prefilled syringes, carefully reading the labels, before turning back to him.

“I just need to put a little bit of water through them, to make sure they’re both working properly, and then I can give you that medicine to stop you feeling so nauseated.” she told him. Bucky nodded and watched her attach the blunt tip of the syringe to his arm. It felt slightly odd, cool inside his veins for a moment, but not unpleasant. Once she was happy that both were situated and working properly, she capped off the first. Maggie tore open the packaging of an IV set and attached it to a small bag of clear, colourless fluid, fiddling with the tap and gently squeezing the bag until the tube filled with the solution. She attached it to the hook, little more than a small plastic coat hanger, that came with the set, and held it out to Steve.

“Could you hang that from the light fixing, please?” she asked, gesturing towards the reading lamp built into the wall over Bucky’s pillows. Steve reached up, not even needing to stand as he quickly looped it over the fixture, before looking down and stroking Bucky’s head.

“Here you go, Bucky. This may make you feel more sleepy, but hopefully it will stop you throwing up. It will take about half an hour to get into your system though. Make sure you tell me if it starts to burn at **any** point **at all** ,” Maggie told him, attaching the Phenergan to one of his IV sites. “It’s really important that you do that. I know you’re a very brave person, but I need to know if this hurts, or any of them do. But this one in particular, alright?”

Bucky nodded, the muscle in his jaw ticcing as he gritted his teeth, his gorge rising and his throat tightening until he felt like he could hardly breathe. _Can’t get sick, can’t get sick, can’t get sick..._ he thought, over and over, interspersing gulps of air with hard swallows. When Maggie spoke, he startled.

“Bucky?” she asked, her brows meeting in concern, before understanding dawned. She was reaching for the bowl at the same time as Steve, who swiftly had it nudging against Bucky’s chest a moment before he retched. Instead, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. Bucky, eyes scrunched shut, his abdominal muscles rending and his throat on fire, felt her touch and squeezed back, hoping that he wasn’t crushing the tiny bones. There wasn’t much to bring up this time, and it didn’t really relieve any of the nausea. He fell back against his pillow, trembling and damp with flop sweat.

Maggie gently extricated her hand, turning to the tray and setting up the glucometer. After placing a drop of Bucky’s blood onto the test strip, she began transferring the remainder into the two correct testing vials, replacing the yellow stopper on the first and a purple one on the second. She labelled them up, pausing for a second in the process as the machine bleeped.

“Fifty four,” she said aloud, glancing at Horatio, then looking to Bucky and Steve as she carefully inverted the vials of blood several times, just out of Bucky’s view.

“Your blood sugar’s pretty low, Bucky,” she explained. “It’s not dangerously low, but it’s probably not helping you feel any better. Still feeling sick?”

Bucky nodded, and Maggie nodded back in understanding. “Hopefully the medicine will start working in a little bit, but do you think you can rub some of this gel into your gums? It’s just sugar,” she added, holding out a tube. It looked a little like the tubes that his daddy gave him when he exercised too hard, only smaller. “You don’t have to swallow it, just rub it around your mouth, if you can.”

Bucky grimaced, but took the tube, unscrewing the lid and squeezing a small amount onto his finger. Carefully, he began rubbing it into his gums, over his front teeth at first, then gradually slightly further back. By the time he got to his premolars though, he knew that pushing his finger any further back would make him gag, so he returned to apply more to front instead. Unlike the gel his daddy used, this one wasn’t flavoured. It was just soft and sweet, though somewhat unpleasantly sticky in his dry mouth. It wasn’t really helping the awful queasy sensation still spiralling inside him, but it wasn’t making him actually puke again, either.

“You’re being so good, Bucky,” Maggie told him, rubbing his knee through the bed covers. “I know you’re feeling really bad, and you’re scared, but you’ve been very, very brave, and I’m proud of you.”

Bucky ducked his head, blushing. He didn’t feel like he’d been brave, or good. But he couldn’t help the warm glow that the words gave him, regardless. He glanced up through his eyelashes and saw his daddy smiling down at him warmly, before leaning over to brush his lips against Bucky’s temple.

“She’s right, Buck. You’ve been such a good boy and I love you so much, lamb.” he told him quietly. Bucky rolled onto his side, burying his face into his daddy’s chest again, enjoying the sensation of the hand rubbing rhythmically up and down his spine. Maggie smiled at them both, dropping the vials of blood into a sample bag, and labelling it up.

Steve pulled back, and stood. “I’m just going to empty this, buddy. I’ll be right back, okay? Just yell if you think you’re going to throw up again,” he explained and started walking towards the open bathroom door. Maggie pushed herself up, calling his name and grabbing a tube of cream, a box of moist wipes and a small sample container. She turned to Steve, casually ensuring that her hands were hidden from Bucky.

“Can you take these with you when you go, please?” she asked, handing him the items, which he held against his body to steady them. “And I know there’s not much, but can you...” she pointed first to the bowl, then to the sample pot already labelled with Bucky’s information. Steve nodded.

“Sure,” he replied, and turned back towards the bathroom as she returned to the edge of the bed.

Quickly changing her gloves, Maggie cleaned off Bucky’s other IV cannula and pushed a second IV line into one of the large bags of fluid labelled with ‘Lactated Ringer's’, attaching it to Bucky’s arm and completely opening the flow regulator so that the fluid could enter at full speed. Rather than hang this one, though, she started to squeeze the bag in her hand, forcing the fluids into Bucky’s vein as fast as physically possible. His eyes were shut when she looked over, so she called his name. He looked over at her, ineffectually licking his dry lips as his mouth was almost as parched itself.

“This may feel pretty cold in your arm but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable at all. Make sure to let me know the moment that changes, if you feel any pain or discomfort, okay?” she told him, and he nodded, his eyes closing again.

The toilet flushed, and Maggie felt Steve’s presence behind her, turning to look at the jar held almost completely enclosed in his huge hand. Freeing one of her own, she managed to open a second sample bag so that Steve could drop the pot inside, and he quickly stepped back to the bathroom. The sound of the water running was soon followed by Steve finally returning and leaning across to place the now clean and dry bowl back beside Bucky. She sealed up the second bag, before she spoke.

“Can you just take these over to Dr. Castle, please, Steve?” she asked, holding the two bags. Steve nodded, stepping across the room and passing the bags to Horatio. The two men talked quietly between themselves for a moment, before Steve returned, lowering himself next to Bucky and carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Tony and the doctor are going to take your samples over to get tested right now, then come back as soon as the results are in, but they swore they'd make sure that nobody else can get hold of your blood, okay, Buck?” Steve told him. Bucky looked up, letting out a shaky breath, and nodded. He didn’t know the doctor, but he hadn’t tried to come into the room or force him to do anything, and Tony was going with him. Bucky Bear said that Tony would have his Iron Man glove if nothing else, and he would certainly make sure the people did everything properly.

For a few minutes, they both sat there quietly beside Bucky. Maggie pushed the fluids into Bucky, and Steve stroked his hair, occasionally rubbing his thumb over Bucky’s cheek. As the bag in Maggie’s hands finally emptied, she carefully closed the line and deftly swapped to a second bag, and continued pressing her fingers into the thick plastic to accelerate the flow into Bucky’s circulation. It was while she was checking the small bag containing Bucky’s anti-sickness medication a couple of minutes later that Bucky groaned, pushing at the covers with his legs.

“Daddy?” he whimpered, pushing himself up onto his metal arm, his other hand dropping to clutch at his belly.

Steve snapped his head around to look at Maggie, but she was already moving, looping the bag she had been crushing onto the same hanger that was holding the small bag she had been examining and nodding at Steve. He slid one arm around Bucky’s back, the other under his knees and stood, lifting him effortlessly against his chest. Maggie pushed awkwardly onto her toes, using her free hand to balance herself on Steve's waist for a moment, and snagged the hook of the hanger into the neck of his t-shirt which was, thankfully, both thick and tight enough to take the weight without stretching out of shape dramatically.

Bucky moaned again as Maggie stepped aside, his guts contorting and wrenching painfully at the almost intolerable pressure building inside him. Despite his best efforts, he felt a little wetness seep out of his body, scalding his inflamed skin like acid.

“No!” he whined, inaudible to anyone without enhanced hearing, as he shifted, desperately trying to hold on just a few more moments.

His daddy looked down at him, his eyes widening and Bucky bit his lip hard, his skin prickling from head to toe as humiliation rushed through him. His daddy swept into the bathroom, and Bucky was shucking his clothing down as soon as he felt his legs dropping towards the floor, begging his body to _waitjustwaitalmostthere_ as the urgency skyrocketed with the change of posture. Collapsing down onto the seat he sobbed once, a mixture of pain, relief, shame, before he brought his metal hand up to cover his lips. He was only vaguely aware of the bathroom door being pulled closed, and that it wasn’t his daddy because he was still holding onto Bucky around his back so that he wouldn’t fall.

As the waves of colic combined with the stinging of broken skin, he bit down hard onto the side of his hand to stop himself from shouting out. He wished he was the Soldier right now. He could take torture, surely this would be nothing for him. But he wasn’t the Soldier. He was five, and he was tired and fed up and wanted to scream because everything hurt, and he was shivery and achy and he just wanted it to _stopstopstop_ ... Only when he started to receive warnings from the sensors in his hand did he loosen his jaws. It was never enough to leave divots in the metal, but it at least warned him before he managed to shatter his own teeth.

Finally, finally, it seemed as though his guts had settled, at least for the moment. He flicked his eyes down at the padding wedged between his knees, but frowned. He knew that he hadn’t made it to the bathroom unscathed but there was nothing visible on his pull-up. He risked a glance up towards his daddy and felt his cheeks redden once more as his daddy gazed back at him, having seen him checking. His daddy cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Bucky? Shall we... uh... get you changed?” he offered, and Bucky shrugged, still confused. He felt his daddy shift beside him, and tried to ignore that he was looking over his knees to see for himself, before quietly saying “Shuffle forwards a bit, buddy.”

Bucky felt the blush spread from his face to cover his chest and back, but followed the instruction, closing his eyes and forcing himself not to think about what his daddy was looking at right that second. It was disconcerting enough that he needed his help to go to the bathroom, but this was utterly degrading. He didn’t realise that there was little to see until his daddy finally spoke.

“Ahh damn, Buck... Looks like you’re washed clean out, buddy,” he said, his voice laden with sympathy.

Bucky's eyes widened for a second as his brain slowly processed his daddy's words, before he dropped his eyes to his hands twisting in his lap. When he looked back up through his lashes, his daddy was reaching towards the cupboard beneath the sink where Bucky kept his nighttime supplies, and extracting a new pull-up for him.

“Anyhow, you’ve been sweating all day, I think you’ll feel a lot more comfortable with a new one, huh?” his Daddy added

Bucky nodded, grateful for his daddy giving him an out, though he was worried about his insides. He was pretty sure that it wasn’t normal to have water coming out of that particular part of his body. Though he hadn’t peed since earlier that morning, so maybe it was working its way out in other ways. He thought he might check with Bucky Bear, because he really didn’t want to ask Daddy or Maggie. He kicked off his pyjama shorts and protection, and reached a shaky hand towards the toilet paper until his daddy stopped him, and handed him a plastic tub.

According to the label it contained flushable, biodegradable, moist toilet tissues that were supposed to be more gentle. He flipped open the lid and sniffed, taking in the faint but definite chemical smell behind the scent of aloe. Carefully, he pulled one into his metal hand, and reluctantly reached to clean himself up, even though his daddy said there wasn’t really anything to clean. He hissed and jumped, the skin still exquisitely painful to the touch, but it eased into a low hum of discomfort much more quickly.

When his daddy also passed him a tube of thick, white ointment, he squeezed a little onto his finger, before shifting uncomfortably. It was cold, greasy, and reminded him of other times, grown up games. Most of the time, lubrication had been non-existent, or his own saliva at best; But just occasionally, his other daddy would decide to grab whatever hand lotion was beside his bed and use that on him. This didn’t smell the same... it didn’t smell like much, in fact. But it was close enough in texture to make Bucky shudder, his skin crawling. As if reading his mind, his daddy squeezed his shoulder.

“You don’t have to use it, Bucky. But Maggie did say this would make it a lot less uncomfortable,” he reassured him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, lamb, I promise.”

Bucky nodded, without turning to look at him. He knew logically that his daddy would always be there to watch out for him, but sometimes his fears made him worry, and his worried part found it hard to believe that he wasn’t a nuisance, or a burden, or horrible and gross and disgusting. And to top it off, Bucky couldn’t even pinpoint where or whom this part of him was, so he couldn’t even send someone to sort it out, not even Natasha, and she could usually find anyone.

Chewing on his cheek for a moment, he finally reached back, being careful not to knock his IVs, and used his cream-covered finger to slick the ointment over himself. The coolness was instantly soothing, and Bucky dragged his hand out quickly, wiping it on a piece of tissue and twisted himself around to hit the flush. Despite the discomforting memories, he had to admit that it felt nice on his battered skin. Even so, he dragged the pull-up up to his thighs as quickly as he could, followed by the shorts that his daddy had retrieved from the floor for him.

He felt himself blush yet again when he realised that his daddy had picked up his old pull-up and disposed of it while his mind had been elsewhere. His head still swam unpleasantly as his daddy helped him stand to finish dressing and to wash their hands thoroughly. As he took a wobbly step towards the sink, he found himself trembling, once more back in his memories, the sensation of gloop between his buttocks, the soreness all too much and a sob hiccuped from his chest despite his best efforts.

“I got you, Buck,” Daddy whispered, pulling him hard against him and taking his weight. “You’re safe. Do you need to sit down for a bit longer?” Bucky shook his head no. He was starting to get lightheaded, and turned back to the sink to scrub at his hands. He was half asleep even before he felt himself being lifted back into his daddy’s arms.

Everything shifted for a moment as his daddy angled himself to open the bathroom door, but just seconds later, he was back against his pillows, Bucky Bear tucked into the crook of his metal arm carefully, so as not to pinch his fur, as Daddy ran through his usual routine of tucking him in and arranging his Safety Towel under his chin. Maggie was reaching for the bags of fluid, replacing the now empty small bag with another small bottle, this one glass.

“This is just some Tylenol, Bucky,” she explained and he nodded. “I know it doesn’t do a lot for you normally, but it’s going to help your fever and the headache from that; and hopefully, it’ll make your tummy muscles feel a bit less sore where you’ve been throwing up so much, too.”

“Try and sleep a bit, Buck,” Daddy told him quietly, as he hung the bottle over Bucky’s head, and Bucky nodded, already dozing. Maggie was back kneading the other, bigger bag of fluid, while Daddy was brushing his hand over his hair, his cheek, his neck. A nap seemed like the best idea that he’d had all day.

 

 

 

 

 **Warning:** There is the barest hint of soiling in this chapter. But it hardly even counts, for a number of reasons, beyond being a technicality. It's not tagged for that reason. It does cover a plot point, but you won't miss out entirely if you choose not to read it; simply click the two links within the story to skip past the relevant parts. But compared to what's gone before, it's honestly nothing.  Go Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science Bits
> 
> **Cotard's syndrome** (or Cotard delusion) is a psychiatric condition where the person believes they are **dead, decaying, don't really exist, or have no blood or internal organs**. It revolves around "delusion of negation" - basically, the person denies that all or part of themselves exists. It's most commonly associated with **psychosis** (either conditions like schizophrenia, or psychotic depression), but it can also be related to **brain injury or other neurological issues, other mental illnesses including depression, migraines and even the drug aciclovir (an antiviral)**. 
> 
> Cotard's syndrome seems to be related to **facial recognition** and damage to areas in linking faces to names/people (such as the **fusiform area** underneath and at the back of the brain, the **amygdalae** deep inside the brain, and the **parietal lobes** at the top back of the brain) can trigger this or the closely related **Capgras syndrome** (where a person believes that familiar people have been replaced with impostors who look the same). It is generally accepted that it is a form of **derealisation**.
> 
>  **Electrolytes** are ions dissolved in blood, such as **sodium, potassium, chloride, lactate, bicarbonate** and so on. These are important in treating dehydration. If you simply give water to a patient, they will end up suffering issues such as **hyponatremia** (low sodium), and if the patient has lost more water proportionally than potassium, for example, then they could end up with **hyperkalaemia**. These imbalances can **painful or fatal**. A person may lose more of one electrolyte than another, so it's important to get **blood tests** to ensure that you are replacing the correct balance.
> 
>  **Flashbacks** are a common symptom in people in **PTSD** , along with **nightmares, vivid and/or intrusive memories, irritability or anger, extreme anxiety, exaggerated startle response, hypervigilance, difficulty sleeping and poor concentration**. While PTSD is often recognised as an after-effect of **combat** , it can be triggered by many situations including **natural disaster, assault, car accidents** etc. In cases where there **isn't one triggering incident** but longer term stressors (such as **child abuse, domestic abuse, POW camps** etc), the person may be suffering from **complex PTSD** (C-PTSD). The biggest difference between PTSD and C-PTSD is the **loss of sense of self**. This is only found in complex PTSD. Other related symptoms include **psychological fragmentation, lack of trust and self-worth, and often revictimization**. The **amygdala** is also important in PTSD (as well as **memory retrieval** ).
> 
>  **Phenergan** is a drug given to treat **nausea and vomiting** by mouth, rectally, injection into muscle or by IV. The problem with **IV use** is that it can cause massive **damage to veins** (or arteries if given incorrectly). It can lead to spasm of the damaged blood vessels and **severe tissue damage** , including gangrene and amputation. If given IV, it should only be used well diluted and given as slow as possible. 
> 
> When you have blood taken, the different **coloured stoppers** on the containers show what tests can be carried out against blood from them, based upon what other preservatives, anti-clotting drugs etc are including in the tubes. 
> 
> A blood glucose of **54mg/dl (3mmol/l)** is too low. Because Bucky **can't eat** at the moment, **glucose** given in oral gel and his IV will boost his levels temporarily, until he's able to drink again.
> 
>  **Norovirus** is usually isolated from a **stool** sample. However, in extreme cases, vomit or food can be used instead, especially during **epidemiology** of outbreaks (finding the source of the cases). Extracts will be made, then run through processes to multiply the **genetic component** of the virus, which can then be matched to known samples.
> 
>  **Lactated Ringer's** is a commonly used solution to replace lost fluid in patients. There are a number of others, but this is one of the more common. Choice will depend on the patient, condition and circumstances of IV use.
> 
> Usually, IVs are given over time to prevent **fluid overload** (which can cause serious problems itself). But in emergencies, **squeezing** the bag can force the fluid into the system faster than gravity alone. The **colour** of the IV cannula shows the **gauge** (diameter) of the tube, and how fast fluid can flow. Bucky's is wide ( **16g** ) and allows 1 litre to enter in **less than 6 minutes** at the maximum rate under gravity. This time can easily be reduced by **a third or a half** by using pressure.
> 
>  **Not urinating** for 12 hours or more (4-6 hours in babies), or only passing tiny amounts (severe dehydration that needs prompt treatment.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading, commenting, bookmarking and giving kudos. You're all awesome, and I'm so grateful that anyone has enjoyed reading this. :)
> 
> Extra thanks to my betas this time, because one is super busy and the other isn't well, so huge thanks for finding the time to turn my nonsense into something resembling coherence. Love you both, ladies! xx  
>  (Any remaining mistakes are because I. Can't. Stop. Fiddling!)
> 
> **Warnings:** The usual - a little grossness, limited angst, Maggie being awesome, Tony being utterly ridiculous for Bucky, and Steve being the best daddy in the world. :)  
>     
> 

 

When Steve was sure that Bucky had slipped into a slumber, he quietly spoke, keeping his eyes on Bucky’s face.

“He’s only passin’ water now. It’s completely clear, like his whole stomach’s been washed through,” he told her lowly. Maggie nodded, a sympathetic frown on her face.

“Hopefully the anti-sickness medicine has kicked in now - it was a pretty hefty dose, after all, and he’ll be able to start drinking some of that Pedialyte,” She inclined her head towards the bottle beside the bed. “This drip alone won’t necessarily be enough if he doesn’t start taking fluids by mouth too, and we can hopefully give him some medicine to slow down his gut and get a handle on the diarrhea. Just give him fifteen minutes or so for the Tylenol to kick in, and then we’ll wake him up to see how the nausea is.”

By the time the bottle had fully run into his vein, Maggie was busy squeezing the third bag of fluid into the other one. Bucky woke to the sound of his daddy gently calling his name and the sensation of him rubbing the back of his fingers against Bucky’s cheek. He blinked owlishly, before finally focussing onto the intense blue eyes looking down at him. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice still rough from disuse, dehydration and vomiting. 

“Think you can take some medicine to try and make your tummy better?” his daddy asked. “It dissolves on your tongue.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and nodded. The first medication must be helping because for the first time since that morning, he wasn’t feeling overtly nauseated. His guts, however, still gurgled and twisted in a painful and distressing manner, and if the new medicine was going to help with that, then he was definitely going to try it. Steve had a couple of tablets in the palm of his hand, and dropped them into Bucky’s. He stared at them for a moment, while Maggie finished detaching the Tylenol IV from his arm, before slipping them between his lips. Within seconds they had dispersed across his tongue, and disappeared. There was a faint aftertaste that made him grimace, but then Steve was holding out a glass of strawberry liquid and he took a tiny sip to wash away the taste, but no more. He didn’t want to start throwing up again now that he was finally feeling a bit better. It helped that, while he was still thirsty, he didn’t feel as though he was as desperate to drink as a man lost in the desert. He guessed that all those bags that Maggie was squashing must be helping already, even though it had been less than an hour since she’d started giving them to him.

“See if you can drink a little bit more,” Daddy urged, but Bucky shook his head, afraid. Maggie looked on and reached to touch his hand, drawing his attention to her.

“Are you still feeling nauseous, Bucky?” she asked gently. His immediate response was to nod, but then he paused, considered the question for a moment and slowly shook his head.

“N-No?” he replied, uncertainly, before adding, “Don’ wanna be sick again though.” 

“I know you don’t. It’s horrible throwing up all the time. But the medicine seems to be working, if you’re not nauseous any more. And sometimes being really thirsty can make you feel worse, too. Can you try to drink a bit more? If you start feeling bad again, then we can see if you need more medicine later.” Maggie explained gently. Bucky considered her words before he finally answered.

“‘Kay,” he acquiesced. “But just a little bit.”

“Just a little bit to start with, yes,” she agreed, nodding at Steve, who brought the glass back towards Bucky, He leaned forwards to slip the straw into his mouth, and sucked, swallowing the mouthful before leaning back, his eyes scrunched shut and clutching the edge of the bowl with his metal hand, his other fingers fussing with the rough edge of the towel over his chest. Steve glanced over at Maggie, who held up a finger to tell him to wait. 

Gradually, as seconds became a minute, then another, Bucky’s countenance relaxed, as he realised that - for the first time all day - he wasn’t going to throw up immediately. He cracked his eyes open, glancing at his daddy, who smiled back, holding up the glass in a silent offer. He looked towards Maggie, who nodded and simply murmured “Slowly,” to him, then accepted it for another mouthful before letting his head rest on the pillow again.

Over the next fifteen minutes or so, Maggie finished emptying the third bag of fluid, and shook her hands and arms out after disconnecting the line from his hand completely. Steve had been offering the glass to Bucky every minute or so, and thankfully his stomach seemed happy enough to accept the fluid, even behaving when he started to take two mouthfuls at a time. She was carefully walking Bucky and Steve through the new IV line that she was setting up for him.

“This fluid is a little bit different from the last one. It’s got some sugar in, so you won’t feel quite so weak, and this,” she held up a syringe, “is potassium, so we can keep your electrolytes in check. Hopefully Tony and Dr. Castle will be back soon, and we can change how much of that we need to give you, if necessary.” 

She carefully injected the potassium into a small port on the side of the bag, and thoroughly mixed the contents. Only when she was happy that everything was evenly dispersed did she reach for the new line beside her; at the same moment, Bucky’s belly rumbled loudly, and before he had even groaned, Steve was standing up, and slinging his arms underneath Bucky. Maggie stepped back out of the way, then followed behind to pull the door closed after the two men. By the time they returned, the new IV was ready to go, and she waited for Steve to settle Bucky back under the covers before she set about cleaning and attaching the line to his arm and passing the bag to Steve to hang from the light once again. She glanced over at her patient. He was pale, but he didn’t appear to be fever flushed any more.

“How’s your tummy?” she asked, reaching for the tympanic thermometer on the tray. “Any nausea?” Bucky shook his head in answer to the second question, but blushed, looking away.

“No better yet,” Steve added, gently brushing Bucky’s bangs away from his forehead. 

“I’ll get you some more medicine for that in a moment. For now, can I take your temperature?” she asked. “It just pops into the first bit of your ear, it doesn’t hurt, but I might have to tug your earlobe a little bit.” 

Bucky bit his lip for a second, then nodded. However bad today had been, Maggie had been right about everything so far. It felt weird, kind of cold and hard in his ear, but it didn’t hurt, simply beeped once when it was ready. She looked at it and smiled. 

“Your fever’s down, at least,” she explained, showing them both the display reading 98.8°F. “How’s your head?”

Bucky shrugged, before adding, “Better, I guess. Still hurts a bit though,” Maggie nodded, pulling a couple more of the dissolving tablets out of a foil and plastic sheet and handing them to Bucky again. He recognised them from before and lifted his hand to his mouth, grimacing and holding his hand out for the glass that his daddy was holding ready. A quick mouthful washed away the taste, and he followed up with another swig for good measure. 

“We’ll have you better in no time,” Maggie replied, gently squeezing his calf through the covers that he was no longer clutching to himself in an attempt to quell the shivering. Steve’s smile lit up the room, and even Bucky looked up with a small, hopeful quirk at the corner of his lips. 

By the time JARVIS announced that Tony and Horatio were back at the Tower and heading down to their floor, Bucky had managed to drink, and keep down, almost the entire litre bottle of Pedialyte. 

“What flavour do you want next, Bucky?” Steve asked, upending the bottle but only half filling the glass. 

“What flavours are there?” Bucky asked, his eyebrow cocked. Steve stifled a smile. If Bucky was actually considering flavour, hopefully that was a good sign. 

“JARVIS, what did the pharmacy send over?” Steve asked. 

“Excluding the current bottle that Master Barnes is consuming, there are Blue Raspberry, Bubble Gum, Cherry Punch, Grape...” JARVIS began listing off the bottles. Maggie raised her eyebrows and Steve just shrugged.

“That’s what happens when you ask for ‘some’ to be sent over.” he explained with a wry smile as the AI finished up on the popsicles. “Thanks, JARVIS,”

Bucky, who had brightened up at the word ‘popsicle’, tugged at his daddy’s sleeve.

“Buck..?” he asked, turning to him in concern, before relaxing minutely at Bucky’s expression.

“C’n... could I have a popsicle, please, Daddy?” he asked, eyes wide. The idea of ice sliding down his still-inflamed throat seemed like magic right now. He watched as his daddy looked towards Maggie, who nodded.

“Okay, Bucky,” his daddy smiled. “You can have a popsicle. But just one for now, alright? Then we’ll see how you’re doing. What flavour popsicle, and what flavour drink do you want?”

Bucky actually smiled before answering. “Raspberry popsicle, please... and... um... Tropical Fruit drink?” he answered, after a moment of pondering the options.

From outside the door, they heard Tony saying “Knock, knock, anyone home?” before sticking his head around the frame. 

“Perfect timing!” Steve said, winking at Bucky who smothered his smile behind his metal hand. “Stark! How about you grab Bucky a blue popsicle and the Tropical Fruit drink from the fridge, huh?”

Tony threw his hands up in mock disgust. “When exactly did I turn into the servant in my own tower?” he asked Steve. “I’m pretty sure I can, and do, pay other people to do these sorts of things!” He winked in turn at Bucky, reassuring him that he wasn’t really upset, then spun on his heel and headed towards the kitchen. A small huff made Steve turn his head back to Bucky, who had tugged his Safety Towel up over his chin and mouth, his eyes twinkling in amusement. Steve pretended to be shocked.

“James Buchanan Barnes, are you laughing?” he asked. Bucky’s eyes crinkled more. He loved it when his daddy was being silly.

“Nuh-huh,” Bucky replied, shaking his head.

“You were! You laughed at me getting sassed by Tony!” he teased gently, then smiled, leaning over to plant a kiss onto Bucky’s forehead. He passed the glass containing the last of the strawberry drink to Bucky. “Here, finish this before you start your popsicle. There’s only a couple of sips,”

Bucky extricated himself from the towel and lifted his head up to suck the liquid down. He still felt pretty awful, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to break apart from the shivering anymore, and he could actually drink again without trying to regurgitate his internal organs. As his daddy straightened out the towel again, he turned to the doctor standing quietly in the doorway watching their interaction,

“So, what did the tests show?” he asked, tucking the thick material under Bucky’s chin.

“They’re still running the assay to double check that it’s norovirus, we should hear back in an hour or two. His electrolytes look reasonably balanced, so we’re on the right track with the treatment we’re currently giving him,” he told them. Steve nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he fully understood all of the details. Things were looking up, it seemed, and he hoped that they would stay that way.

Horatio looked over to Bucky and smiled. “Hi, Bucky.” he said, with a single shoulder height wave. “Are you feeling better?” He placed the outstretched fingers of his right hand to his lip, thumb pointing up, and then drew his hand sideways, away from his head, the fingers closing into a fist and ending as a thumbs up gesture. Bucky nodded, still feeling shy. He began to lift his right hand but paused, glancing at the IVs in his arm, and switched to his left, and forming a fist with the back of his hand towards his body and flexed his closed hand down twice, mimicking a nodding head. He continued by opened his hand flat, the palm facing towards himself and placing his fingertips near his lips before straightening his arm, his hand falling towards Horatio. Bucky wrapped his fingers around Bucky Bear - who had finished his honey IV earlier and was feeling much better now his Bearlly Ache was fixed, thank you very much - and pulled him close enough that he could turn his face into his fur.  It was still difficult to talk to new people when he was little at the best of times, let alone today.

Thankfully, Tony chose that moment to return to the room, and Bucky couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Tony had dug out a white kitchen towel from the pile in the drawer, and folded it over his arm like a waiter in the fancy restaurants that he occasionally tried to drag them all to. He held a silver tray, with the bottle of tropical Pedialyte and the raspberry popsicle, laying on top of a neatly folded linen dinner napkin sitting next to it, at shoulder height in the other hand. When he spoke, it was with a deliberately terrible French accent.

“Would M’sieur Bucky like his order delivered to his bedside?” he asked, and Bucky nodded. Tony waltzed across the room in a manner that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Monty Python sketch, and lowered the tray as Steve stepped aside, biting his lip in an attempt not to laugh at Tony’s ridiculous act. 

“Your popsicle framboise bleu,” he announced, placing the frozen tube on Bucky’s lap, complete with the napkin, then reached for the Pedialyte bottle. He held it towards Bucky, in parody of every sommelier, so that he could see the label. “The 2016 l’eau de fruit exotique. A particularly fine vintage, if I may say so, M’sieur.” 

He placed the bottle onto the now crowded bedside table, and performed a very ostentatious and swirly bow to Bucky, who giggled again, and then retreated from the room with the same foolish walk as he entered, but backwards. He even managed to get to the door without bumping into anything or anyone in the process, which Steve found even more impressive. Maggie met Tony’s eyes and held them for a moment, before nodding and smiling. Steve caught the look that passed between them and smiled. Perhaps Steve wasn’t the only one today who was learning a little more about the Tony that lived behind the snark and ego.

“Daddy?”

Bucky’s voice drew his attention back, and he saw that Bucky was holding out the popsicle towards him. He ripped the stubborn top open, then handed it back, watching Bucky suck the icy slush into his mouth and swallowing, his eyes closed.

Bucky hadn’t even realised his eyes had drifted shut until his daddy chuckled and said, “That good, buddy?” He blinked up at him and nodded. It still hurt a little to swallow, but the frosty, tangy half-melted ice was a balm. Thankfully, by the time it had reached his stomach, it had melted completely, and didn’t upset the delicate balance they had over it right now. He watched as his daddy poured some of the dark orange Pedialyte into his glass and placed it back beside the bed. When his abdomen burbled, he paused. Steve looked over at him as he carefully pressed his left hand underneath his navel. He wasn’t feeling the same sudden urgency to use the bathroom as he had been, but Bucky Bear suggested that it might be better to go now than wait until it got worse. Bucky agreed. 

“Daddy...?” he said, looking up at him. Daddy nodded, and reached for the nearly empty bag of IV fluid, then pulled Bucky up into his arms before carrying him to the bathroom. Bucky slid down, and then felt his daddy carefully pull his arms away.

“Let’s see if you can sit upright now,” he said, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky nodded, leaning forwards over his metal arm as his abdomen cramped. It took a while for the griping to turn into anything more and, even then, it didn’t last as long this time. It looked like the tablets were starting to help.  _ Finally, thank God, thank God _ , he thought to himself. He quickly cleaned up and gently applied the ointment, which was actually starting to take some of the sting away, as Maggie had promised. He even managed to stand under his own steam to wash his hands, though his daddy’s were very firmly clamped around his waist, just in case. He had to admit that when he was done, he was grateful to be pulled up and cradled against his daddy’s chest again. He was starting to feel a little bit woozy after so long upright. 

Daddy carried him back to bed, and started tucking him back in. Bucky felt his cheeks flush as Daddy told Maggie that things were starting to improve, but nodded seriously when she warned him not to push himself too hard just yet and handed him a couple more of the dissolving tablets. Steve held out the glass for him to wash away the aftertaste, and he took a couple of mouthfuls, swallowing. It was a slightly strange combination of fruit in this bottle, but not unpleasant. It almost made his mouth feel refreshed. Maggie stood, looking over at the IV bag, and then went about swapping it for a new, full one. 

“Daddy?” Bucky said hesitantly.

“Yes, Buck?” he asked, looking down at him.

“C’n I have a story, please?” he asked, twisting his fingers into the towel. His daddy smiled down at him again, and ran his hand through his hair.

“‘Course you can, buddy,” he replied. He reached for the Harry Potter book beside the bed that they’d been reading every evening at bedtime, and opened it at the bookmark.  _ “Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep in Ron's room when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley...” _

 

 

blue raspberry \- click to return to your place in the story.  
tropical fruit water \- click to return to your place in the story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science Bits
> 
> **Watery diarrhoea** isn't uncommon, even to the extent of being mostly water. However, passing fluid that is **colourless, cloudy white or (at worst) the colour of whatever you drank** (such as blue raspberry!) is far more serious. Usually, this is only seen after several days during **severe diarrhoeal diseases** such as **cholera** , where it is termed **rice water stools** because it looks precisely like the water used to boil rice. Unless you are undergoing a **bowel clearing prep** from your doctor, you should seek medical advice promptly.
> 
> There are a number of **anti-motility and/or anti-secretory medications** that slow the movement of the bowel contents and/or reduce the amount of fluid secreted into the gut, respectively, thereby **reducing/stopping diarrhoea**. **Imodium** (loperamide) is probably the best known, but there are others, including racecadotril and codeine. Generally, it's **alright** to use these during viral illnesses, but you should usually **check with your doctor** and avoid them if you have a high fever or signs of a bacterial bowel infection. In some cases they can **prolong illness or shedding** of viruses/bacteria afterwards, but in others, **reducing fluid loss** will take priority. 
> 
> There are a number of **different solutions** that can be given IV. The one that Maggie has swapped to here is a little different from the previous one. Unlike that, it is made up from **two solutions** \- a **5% dextrose** (glucose) in water solution, and a 0.9% sodium chloride (salt) solution called **Normal Saline** (NS) which mimics the average salinity of body fluids. It doesn't contain as many electrolytes as the Lactated Ringer's, but it does help to increase Bucky's **blood sugar levels** while he's not eating, and the addition of **potassium** helps to maintain the balance of electrolytes in his system. There's no single, perfect solution for any situation, but this is a reasonable, short-term maintenance choice. 
> 
> A **tympanic** (ear) thermometer is the most accurate way to get a body temperature (aside from rectally). However, you need to be sure that you are reading from the tympanic membrane (the ear drum) which requires you to pull down and/or backwards on the ear in some cases. If there is a build up of **wax or discharge** , then the reading will be inaccurate. A **dual tympanic/forehead** thermometer is a very good investment as it is usually fast and accurate when used correctly. Steve has already asked JARVIS to find him a decent one and order it!
> 
> Normal **adult body temperature** is 98.6 °F (37 °C) ± 1°F (0.6°C). While **pyrexia** (a fever) is uncomfortable, it isn't likely to do you any real harm. In fact, it may even **help** your body to fight the infection (though treating it **won't noticeably affect** the outcome). It occurs when substances called **pyrogens** , produced either by the infection or the body itself, cause your body to **reset your internal thermostat** to higher than normal. This is why, initially, you feel **shivery and cold** , even though your temperature is higher than normal. When the thermostat is reset back to the normal temperature, you then start to feel unbearably **hot and sweaty** , even though your temperature is getting back to normal. 
> 
> Treating fever is primarily about **comfort**. For example, if a person is sleeping peacefully, there's no need to wake them just to give Tylenol or ibuprofen, for example. Temperature **over 40°C (104°F)** is considered **hyperpyrexia** , and a medical emergency. Below that, or perhaps lower, depending upon other symptoms and current health, it shouldn't be of huge concern. **Fear of fever** is much greater than the danger from it. In some **children** it can cause **seizures** , but these are unrelated to conditions such as epilepsy and usually pass by 5 years old. It shouldn't be confused with **hyperthermia** (overheating above core thermostat temperature) which is always a medical **emergency**.
> 
>  **Popsicles and jello** are great ways of getting fluid into people, if they feel able to take them. If you wish, you can **freeze** leftover Pedialyte solution, once opened, in ice cube trays or popsicle moulds.
> 
>  **ASL Signs:** [Better](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/51367/better-american-english). [Yes](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/51106/yes-american-english). [Thank you](https://www.spreadthesign.com/us/153748/thank-you.-american-english). Normally signing is taught **right handed** , but if necessary, can be reversed to use the left hand predominantly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for your support. You all rock!
> 
> Miriam and Cornelius also belong to Lauralot. They are both superstars of the APSHDS AU!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Some grossness, lots of feels, JARVIS being helpful yet again, and more Tony being awesome. It also comes with another Beta Reader Feels warning!  
>     
> 

 

Unsurprisingly, Bucky drifted off after only a few minutes of listening to Steve reading. He gently extracted the glass that was tilting at an extraordinary angle in Bucky’s loose fingers, and placed it back onto the table. Bucky had made a good dent into the first glass, nevertheless, before sleep had overcome him. Steve looked at Maggie.

“How long should we leave him for?” Steve asked her. He didn’t want Bucky to get worse because he was asleep instead of replacing lost fluids.

“He’ll be fine for now, at least. How about you, though? Have you eaten anything today?” she asked him with a frown. Steve looked abashed and shook his head.

“Not since breakfast. I... I didn’t even think about it.” he admitted. “I grabbed plenty to drink, though, but I couldn’t really leave Bucky in the condition he was in...”

“I know, but I’m here now, I’ll keep an eye on him. Please, go get yourself something, even if it’s just some cereal or a sandwich. You won’t be able to look after him if you end up passing out from hunger.” Maggie informed him firmly. He frowned at Bucky, then back at Maggie, and she made a shooing gesture. “Get out. I’ll call if he needs you, alright?”

Steve nodded and carefully stood up, watching Bucky for a moment before silently padding across the room and into the hallway. He took a moment to stretch, feeling his neck and shoulders pop, and headed into the kitchen, where he found Tony sitting at his dinner table, StarkPad in hand. Steve stopped in surprise when he noticed the stack of sandwiches on a plate next to him, loosely covered in saran wrap.

“Hey there, Cap. Figured you were probably due some sustenance,” Tony said, not even looking up from the device as he scrolled with one elegant forefinger. “Pastrami on rye with Russian, egg salad on whole wheat, pickles and a potato knish. All from your favourite deli.”

Steve stared for a moment, before finding his voice.

“Wow, um... Thanks, Tony, that’s great,” Tony waved it off, studiously staring at the screen in his other hand, but Steve ignored his gesture and continued. “No, really... Thank you, Tony. You’ve been... you’ve been incredibly supportive today and that really means a lot to me. And I know you cheered Bucky up as well,”

Tony finally looked up, a streak of pink along his cheekbones, and rubbed his hand along the opposite forearm uncomfortably.

“It’s really alright, Cap. I know that you’ve been in there all day looking after your horribly sick kid and apparently I’m already going to catch this godawful mutated ebola thing, whatever happens, so I figured I may as well do something useful. So, you know... eat something... I’m just going to head back to the lab for a while, stuff to fix up.” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. Steve nodded. Tony nodded back in response, and spun around, heading for the elevator. He had taken half a dozen steps when he paused and half turned, adding “Oh, pasta primavera in the fridge for later,” before escaping back to his tools and machinery.

Shaking his head, Steve sat down and quickly swallowed the sandwiches, deciding that perhaps the smell of pickles might be a bit too overpowering for Bucky’s sensitive stomach right now. He rewrapped the knish before placing both it and the tub of pickles into the fridge, alongside the pasta, and stopping by his own bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water on his face. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t close to being over yet. On his way back through the kitchen, he took a quick detour to the fridge to grab a bottle of Gatorade and quietly made his way back to Bucky’s room. Maggie had moved the desk chair to the door, so that Horatio could sit down, at some point while Steve was out of the room, and he stood so that Steve could get past. He’d only been gone perhaps twenty minutes, but he was glad to see that Bucky was still dozing, with Bucky Bear tucked under his arm and his mouth slightly open. Rather than disturb Bucky by sitting beside him, Steve lowered himself to kneel beside the bed and sat back onto his heels.

“How’s he been?” Steve asked quietly and Maggie gave him a thumbs up. He must admit, he did feel better now that he had a decent meal inside him, and he took a large swig of the Gatorade in his hand, then returned to watching Bucky nap.

 

~ X ~

 

When Bucky finally started to wake, it was because he was beginning to feel a bit off. He thought it was simply where he’d fallen asleep at first, and blinked, and immediately his daddy was there, stroking his hair with one hand and holding out the glass with the other. He sucked up a couple of mouthfuls, then settled back into the pillows, waiting for the fuzziness to wear off completely.

He tried to work out what had woken him. It quickly dawned on him a minute later, when the curls of nausea started to wrap around his stomach unpleasantly. He swallowed, hoping the feeling would pass, but instead, it began to strengthen. Bucky whimpered quietly; this wasn’t supposed to happen. The medication was meant to make him better and now he was starting to feel like he was going to throw up again.

“Daddy...?” he moaned, his eyes filling with tears.

“What’s the matter Bucky?” his daddy asked, frowning down at him. Bucky swallowed again, trying to force his stomach to stay down where it was meant to be, instead of crawling up into his throat.

“Feel sick, Daddy.” he answered, his breath catching on a hiccup of a sob. “Don’ wanna be sick again, Daddy!”

His daddy immediately slid his arm underneath Bucky’s shoulders, ready to help him upright at a moment’s notice. Maggie spoke to him, while deftly reaching for one of the miniature bags of fluid, and a labelled syringe, adding the contents into the bag and agitating it rapidly.

“Do you think you’re going to throw up, Bucky, or are you just nauseous?” she asked, quickly attaching the bag to an IV tube.

“I d-dunno,” he replied, his bottom lip trembling while his face took on a sickly shade of greenish-white around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. “Just feel really bad, Daddy, please...”

His daddy made gentle, reassuring noises, encouraging him to take slow, deep breaths, and Maggie tore open an alcohol wipe to rapidly swab the currently unused port on his arm.

“Just a little water first, Bucky, then I’ll get this medicine going to stop the nausea, okay?” she told him. He nodded, drawing shaky breaths and swallowing repeatedly against the increasing urge to throw up. Once attached, she carefully adjusted the flow rate to as fast as she dared run it, and had his daddy reach up to attach it to the hook next to the almost empty large IV bag. “All sorted now, Bucky. You’re doing really well. Just try to relax and keep breathing slowly.”

Bucky nodded, his hands clenched into fists as he tried to force his stomach to behave by strength of will alone. He didn’t catch his daddy and Maggie sharing a concerned look. For Bucky’s sake, Maggie hoped that he would be able to hang on until the new dose of Phenergan kicked in, but the pallor of his face was not giving her a lot of hope on that front. Sure enough, not even a minute later, Bucky whined quietly, his eyes flying open.

“Gonna be sick, Daddy!” he exclaimed, his mouth suddenly full of far too much saliva, while trying desperately to push himself upwards with his left arm. Daddy was immediately helping him, pulling the bowl into Bucky’s lap as he propped him up, and lifting it closer to his chin. Bucky retched once, saliva trickling into the bowl as he sucked in a breath, fighting the urge right to the very end, but just seconds later, his whole body heaved, tears pressed between his screwed-up eyelids, and the Pedialyte he’d just drunk splattered messily into the bowl. Once he felt his stomach emptying the small amount he’d swallowed, he stopped fighting, futilely heaving again and again while his daddy held his hair back from his face once more, as tears leaked down his cheeks. When his stomach finally stop contracting, Bucky hiccuped and fell back against his daddy’s arm, unable to stop the tears pooling in his eyes before running down the sides of his face and into his hair.

“M’sorry daddy, m’sorry, m’sorry, I tried. I tried _so_ hard, I couldn’t stop it, it wouldn’t stop, please don’t be mad, please, please...” he cried, as his daddy pulled him in for a long cuddle.

“Shh, now, Bucky, it’s okay, lamb, you did so well, I know you tried. You’re not in trouble, it’s not your fault, you’re sick, Buck...” Daddy whispered softly, palming the back of his head with one huge hand.

“It’s absolutely not your fault, Bucky,” Maggie added quietly, reaching to rub her fingers over Bucky’s. “I wasn’t aware how quickly the medicine would wear off, and that’s why you started feeling unwell again. But you’re already nearly half of the way there with this dose, so hopefully, this won’t last much longer. And next time, I can make sure to set it up before it wears off.”

“There you go, buddy,” his daddy said. “Not your fault at all.” Bucky nodded, but despite what they said, he still felt bad. He’d only had to wait half an hour, and he couldn’t even manage that, which was fairly terrible. But for now, he felt a little less queasy, so he shut his eyes and let Daddy lay him back against the pillow, with his Safety Towel carefully tucked back under his chin while his daddy went to the bathroom with his bowl. He hadn’t realised that he’d started drifting until he felt his daddy place the bowl back on the bed, and settle onto the bed beside him. Maybe if he took a quick nap, he’d feel better when he woke.

 

~ X ~

 

Sure enough, when his tummy woke him with a suspicious noise about twenty minutes later, he was no longer feeling particularly like throwing up, but he definitely needed a trip to the bathroom. Daddy unhooked his IV bags - and Maggie had clearly replaced the big bag with another full one while he napped -  from the wall lamp and hoisted him up into his chest, hurrying into the bathroom with him, and this time stepped away from him to stand by the door, with his back to him after hooking the IV to the toilet roll holder on the wall next to Bucky.

“Just say if you need me, Buck,” he said gently, before adding “but please don’t try to stand up on your own yet.”

While he propped his hand on his knee, biting his lip through each wave of colicky pain, he considered that at least he wasn’t having to go to the bathroom as often any more, even though his body still seemed confused about fluid excretion. But he was pretty sure that despite that, he wasn’t losing as much fluid as he had been, which his body seemed to confirm when the cramps finally ended with very little to show for them. He finished tidying himself up, pulling his clothes almost completely up, before calling out.

“Finished, Daddy,” he said quietly, and his daddy quickly turned, carefully helping him to stand and finish dressing and washing up. This time, when his daddy went to scoop him up, Bucky held his arms out, wrapping them around his daddy’s neck and pulling. His daddy chuckled, and hoisted him up to sit on his hip while Bucky wrapped his legs around his daddy’s waist. He was so tired, but it was a different kind of tired now. Earlier, he’d felt as though every cell in his body had exhausted the energy it had, leaving him limp, weak and frightened. Now, he simply felt as though he could sleep for half a day, if he was given the option.

Bucky sighed quietly as he sank back into the pillows, his eyelids drooping and feeling his daddy’s hands work around him, until he heard his name being called. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that Daddy was holding out a couple more of those dissolving pills for him, so he opened his mouth obediently, and turned his head to suck up more Pedialyte to rinse out the lingering flavour.  

“Thank you, Daddy.” he said quietly, and Steve smiled in reply. Bucky turned his head towards Maggie. “Thank you for helping me too, Maggie,” he told her and she just squeezed his knee through the covers. Looking over towards Horatio, he repeated the last sign that he’d made. Horatio smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Can I go back to sleep now, Daddy?” he asked, rubbing his face into Bucky Bear’s fur.

“See if you can drink a little bit first, Bucky, then you can have a nap. How’s that sound?” Maggie suggested, detaching the now-empty small IV bag, and he nodded, turning towards the glass that his daddy was once again holding within his reach. Bravely, he took four long swallows, one after another, before laying back and hoping that he hadn’t pushed his stomach too far. He sighed as a sudden wave of longing rolled through him, blinking rapidly to keep at bay the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him again. Daddy pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What are you thinking, Buck?” Daddy asked, and Bucky pouted a little. He didn’t catch his daddy trying not to smile at his expression. Miriam and Cornelius had told him time and time again that his thoughts were his own, but sometimes he swore that his daddy could read his mind. Or at least, he always knew when something was bothering him, often even before Bucky realised himself.

“I wish my mama was here. She always sang the same song when we were sick to help us sleep,” Bucky admitted quietly, still afraid of making his daddy think that he was being an ungrateful, horrible little brat. Instead, his daddy pulled him into a hug, rumpling Bucky’s hair with his calloused fingers.

“Can you remember any of the song, Buck?” Daddy asked gently, and Bucky frowned, deep in thought.

“There were sheep. Lots of sheep. But it wasn’t _‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’_ ,” he added quickly. “There were stars and the moon... and... a dream tree?” he added, huffing in frustration.

Steve looked up at Maggie, his face clearly showing his confusion and desperation to try, at least, to comfort Bucky, but she shook her head minutely, at a loss herself.

“If I may, Captain, I believe this might be the song that Master Barnes is thinking of,” JARVIS suggested quietly.

Steve felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out to see a link to an audio file, and the lyrics of a track written out underneath. He tapped the link, and listened as the song began to play. Steve gazed down at Bucky, watching his exhausted eyes fill up as the woman started to sing a lullaby that Bucky hadn’t heard in almost a century. Bucky looked up, smiling despite the tears now flooding over his cheeks, and Steve’s heart clenched painfully behind his breastbone.

Dropping a kiss onto his forehead, they listened in silence to the lullaby, apart from the occasional sniffle from Bucky, and when the track finally finished, Bucky buried his face into his daddy’s side. He felt almost overwhelmed hearing that song again after so long, and even though the lyrics were slightly different, it filled him with a sense of warm wellbeing, of _home_ . The sort of _home_ that he hadn’t thought he could ever feel again, the kind that only comes from the arms of your parent, and it made him doubly grateful that his daddy took such good care of him now, too.

“Thank you, Daddy,“ he whispered, squeezing him so hard around the middle that for a moment, his daddy probably couldn’t breathe, until he pulled back far enough to say thanks to JARVIS as well. “Can you...” he started, before shaking his head and pushing his face into his daddy’s side again. He couldn’t see the indulgent smile that his daddy cast down at him.

“Can I what, buddy?” Daddy asked, palming the back of Bucky’s head and gently scratching at his scalp until Bucky started to feel like he might melt.

“C’n you sing me the song, please, Daddy?” he asked eventually, his voice still timid despite the petting. His daddy didn’t answer for a second, but just as Bucky was about to take it back, he finally spoke.

“Well, okay Buck. I’m not the world’s best singer and I doubt I’ll sound anything like as pretty as your ma did, but I can try. Here...”  Bucky, keeping his eyes closed, felt his daddy’s hands shifting him back onto the pillows, tucking him in and settling next to him, his back against the headboard while he continued stroking Bucky’s head. “Let’s see if JARVIS can help us out. Could you play the song again, please, JARVIS, but put the lyrics up through the karaoke thing that Tony and Clint make us use? Can you do that?”

“Of course, Captain,” JARVIS answered, and a holographic display appeared in front of Steve, scrolling through the lyrics. He started singing, very softly at first until he felt a bit more sure of himself.

 **_Sleep, baby, sleep,_ ** ****_  
_ **_Your papa guards the sheep;_ ** ****_  
_ **_Your mama shakes the dreamland tree_ ** ****_  
_ **_And from it fall sweet dreams for thee,_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Sleep, baby, sleep._**

Despite what Steve had earlier said, his singing voice was certainly not bad, a rich tenor that worked well in counterpoint to the female voice on the recording. He glanced down at Bucky between verses, his heart filling with warmth at the way he curled up with Bucky Bear, long dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and the frown line between his eyes smoothing out as he drifted towards dreams.

 **_Sleep, baby, sleep._ ** ****_  
_ **_The large stars are the sheep._ ** ****_  
_ **_The little stars are lambs, I guess._ ** ****_  
_ **_The gentle moon's the shepherdess._ _  
_ _Sleep, baby, sleep._**

By the time the last verse rolled around, Steve was pretty sure that Bucky was already fast asleep, but he continued nonetheless. When a third voice joined in, he glanced up and smiled at Maggie, who had decided to add her own touch, singing a harmony line that, it appeared, she had put together after just a few minutes.

 **_Sleep, baby, sleep._ ** ****_  
_ **_Your papa’s watching sheep._ ** ****_  
_ **_The wind is blowing fierce and wild._ ** ****_  
_ **_It must not wake my little child._ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Sleep, baby, sleep._**

As the last of the lyric text scrolled off the virtual screen and the final notes played, Steve cast his eyes down to Bucky, glad to hear that his breathing was deep and regular, and a touch of healthy colour had started to return to his cheeks. He knew that the night wasn’t over yet, but his gratitude towards Horatio, Tony, and especially Maggie felt like it would overflow in an embarrassing bout of tears. He swallowed hard against the ball of emotions clogging his throat, not daring to clear it in case it woke Bucky, but he mouthed his thanks to Maggie and she reached for his leg, stretched along the edge of the bed, and squeezed his calf comfortingly. It was just what he needed at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science Bits
> 
> Because of the **serum** given to both Bucky and Steve, it's highly likely that their **enhanced metabolism** , which prevented Steve from getting **drunk** in the first Captain America movie, would also adversely affect the use of **medications** as well. In order to get a response, the doses would probably have to be **much higher** than normal, and given **more frequently**. Normally, Phenergan doses are given every four hours, but Bucky starts to feel unwell after just two here. 
> 
> The song that Bucky remembers is an **old lullaby** and found in both English and German (at the least) forms. There are **various lyrics** and verses, but the general feel is pretty consistent. An example can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gzo5zJQVrG8) although I pictured a version similar to [this](https://youtu.be/amViL-wr_1s), only in English.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost finished now! Thanks, as always, for the feedback, kudos etc. You're awesome. :) 
> 
> **Warnings:** No grossness! Usually Snowflake-related angst, but that's it!  
>     
> 

 

“I’m going to make a drink,” Steve whispered, once he’d steadied himself. “Can I get you something. Coffee? Tea?”

“I wouldn’t say no. Tea, please. Black, one sugar,” Maggie whispered back. 

Steve nodded and carefully extracted himself from Bucky’s side, holding his breath for a moment as Bucky stirred before rubbing his cheek against Bucky Bear and settling back into stillness. His socked feet made no sound as he crossed the room.

“D’you want anything to drink, Dr. Castle?” he asked quietly. Horatio shook his head.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he answered, before offering, “I can keep an eye on Bucky from here, if you want, while you and Maggie take a break,”

Steve paused and considered it. He didn’t particularly want to leave Bucky unattended by someone he trusted but they’d only be a room away. He nodded, whispering his thanks, and headed out to the kitchen. 

After washing his hands thoroughly, he fetched two mugs and set the electric kettle to boil. If he’d picked one thing up in his time in England during the war, it was how to make a proper English cup of tea. Setting out sugar and milk, he added the loose leaves of his favourite black breakfast tea into the infuser, and filled the teapot with some of the partially boiled water from the kettle, swirling it thoroughly before setting it down by the sink to warm. 

While he waited, he rested his hips against the edge of the work surface and closed his eyes. The tension of the day had settled into his shoulders, knotting the muscles and making him ache all the way up to the base of his skull. He consciously tried to relax, but knew that he would need a long, hot shower and a good sleep before the knots untangled properly. 

The bubbling of the water almost at the boil and the click of the kettle switching off pulled him back to the room and, with a sigh, he turned to empty the teapot and complete their drinks. The steam curling off the surface of the rapidly darkening brew brought with it the soothing aroma of fresh tea leaves, slightly floral, earthy and soothing. Carrying everything over to the dining table, he headed back towards Bucky’s room and silently gestured to Maggie. 

Standing carefully, she made her way over to him, pulling away her face mask and then carefully peeling off the gloves once she had stepped outside, dropping them into the bin by the door.

“You probably want to wash up first. I think my bathroom has probably had the least traffic since Bucky got sick, if you want to use that?” Steve offered, indicating the door to his room. 

“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be out in a moment,” she said, opening the door with her elbow and quickly heading to the sink. Steve watched as she carefully washed and rinsed her forearms and hands under the warm water, then glanced at the towels.

“Just use any one,” he called across the room, and she nodded, reaching out to dry herself off. 

He pulled the door shut behind her as they exited the room, and then gestured towards the dining table, where the tea waited for them. He poured the deep mahogany liquor into the mugs, adding sugar to Maggie’s cup and passing it over. She inhaled deeply then took a sip, letting out a satisfied noise.

“That hits the spot,” she smiled. “Thank you, Steve,”

“Not a problem. I should be thanking you,” he replied, dropping sugar and milk into his own cup and taking a large gulp. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you tonight, Maggie. I honestly don’t know how to repay you. Especially with the risk that you may get ill too.” 

Maggie shook her head and smiled. 

“It’s really not a problem. Bucky’s such a darling and he’s been through so much. It’s not much of a hardship to sit with him for a few hours and give him some fluids.” she reassured him. “Besides, this is hopefully the same strain that has already run through my household once in the last few months. And to be fair, I’ve drunk tea in far worse places. The place I used to live at with Tea, we had housemates. The kitchen was a biohazard area, and one of the others had a parrot!” Maggie shuddered at the memory, and Steve smiled.

“Not a fan, huh?” he guessed.

“Heavens, no. Birds terrify me at the best of times. This one was a macaw and was enormous.” She held her hands about three and a half feet apart to demonstrate. “It was blue with a ring of yellow around the eyes, and the owner taught it to scream my name every time it saw me after Tea suggested that it was a hellbeast. God!” she shook her head. Steve couldn’t contain a chuckle.

“You keep talking about Tea... That’s your partner, right? Is that short for something?” he asked.

“My husband, yes. Well his first name’s Earl...” she paused waiting for the lightbulb to come on. 

_ Earl... _ Steve considered.  _ Earl Grey. _ He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a wry grin.

“Ahh. Obvious now I think about it.” he said, tipping back the last of his cup, and quickly peering inside the pot. “Did you want another?” he offered

“No, I’m good, thanks. I’ve still got half a cup left,” she gestured. “Go ahead and finish it,” Steve refilled his mug and took another mouthful.

They chatted for a few more minutes about her disastrous house shares and the toe nipping turtle, before they both drained their cups. Steve took them both, plus the pot and placed them in the sink, and returned the sugar and milk to their rightful places.

“I’ll probably see if he’ll tolerate oral anti-sickness tablets now. If not, I still have enough to give him into the vein, but it will be far better if we can get him off the IVs,” she explained, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another pair of gloves. Steve nodded and stood up, following her back to Bucky’s room. 

“The lab messaged me. Definitely norovirus according the the PCR.” Horatio said softly as they reached the door. “They can’t tell the exact serotype yet, but preliminary testing suggests is the GII.4 strain that’s knocking everyone on their proverbial arses right now.”

Steve looked at Maggie for confirmation, and when she smiled, he breathed a sigh of relief that at least they knew what the cause of Bucky’s illness was. For a moment, they all stood in the doorway, watching him sleep, before Steve shook himself and stepped over, carefully settling himself next to Bucky. Bucky half opened his eyes to glance at his daddy, then relaxed back into the pillow, asleep again almost immediately. Maggie pulled on a new mask and made her way her sleeping patient, checking his drip before gently lowering herself onto the end of the bed. Together they kept watch as he slept.

 

~ X ~

 

Bucky woke to the sound of his name, and forced his eyes open. 

“Daddy...?” he said, his voice thick from sleep and sickness. “Wassatime?”

“It’s just gone half past ten in the evening, Buck,” he heard his daddy answer and blinked a few times until he could focus on his daddy’s smiling face. “Hey there. How’re you feeling buddy?”

Bucky paused and considered. He was still thirsty, but he wasn’t nauseated and the horrible twisting of his guts seemed to have eased off dramatically. “M’okay,” he answered, smacking his lips. “Thirsty though,” 

He watched his daddy lean over and hold the straw so that he could take a few big swallows. His throat was still a bit rough but it was improving.

“Bucky, do you feel like you can manage some new tablets?” Maggie asked, and Bucky looked towards her with a suspicious frown.

“What kind of tablets?” he asked and she patted his hand.

“It’s exactly the same thing that I was giving you before to stop you wanting to throw up, but dissolves in your mouth like the other tablets for your tummy,” she explained. Bucky was unconvinced. Bucky Bear wanted to know why they couldn’t simply use what they already knew worked and Bucky translated his question for Maggie.

“The thing is, Bucky Bear, the medicine that we’re giving can make Bucky’s veins hurt really bad if it’s used too much, whereas it’s much safer if we can use it as tablets. And it shouldn’t take any longer for the tablets to work in this form than it does when we give it into his arm. If, for whatever reason, Bucky does start to feel nauseous again, then we can still give some into his arm if we need to,” Maggie explained. Bucky considered this, before nodding warily.

“Good boy, Bucky,” his daddy said, pushing Bucky’s sleep mussed hair behind his ears. “Would you like another popsicle or two?” 

Bucky nodded, more enthusiastically this time, and his daddy smiled. 

“Okay, let’s try these tablets and then I’ll run and grab you some popsicles. How about grape and cherry this time?” Daddy offered. 

Bucky took the tablets that Maggie held out for him and placed them on his tongue, grimacing at the flavour. These were more bitter than the others, and made his tongue fizz strangely. He took a large swig from the glass his daddy proffered, and then answered, “Yes, please, Daddy,” 

His daddy stood and left the room and Maggie smiled. “You certainly look like you’re feeling a bit better now, Bucky. Do you mind if I take your blood pressure and your pulse again?” 

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t particularly want to, but he knew that he needed to be good so that Maggie and the doctor could make him better. Maggie stood, somewhat stiffly, and crossed to collect the equipment from Horatio. Bucky held out his arm and let Maggie wrap the velcro strap around his wrist. This time, he knew what to expect and while his hand still felt like it was swelling up from the tight pressure, he didn’t start to panic. Sure enough, just as it got really bothersome, the air released, and Maggie was removing it from him. 

“One oh three over sixty seven, and your pulse is 78,” she said. “That’s much better. You still need to drink some more, but you’re definitely on the mend,”

She held up the finger clip, her eyebrows raised in question and Bucky nodded. This time, Maggie smiled as she looked at the LED screen. “Perfect. 99%,” Bucky smiled back, hoping that this would be permanent now. He didn’t want to start feeling horrible again. “How’s your head feeling now?”

Bucky tipped his head from side to side, making Maggie grin, before answering. “S’okay I think. S’not hurting really,” he clarified, then looked up as his daddy returned, carrying two popsicles, one red and one purple.

“Here we are. Grape or cherry first?” his daddy asked, settling next to him.

“Cherry, please,” Bucky said, and reached out to take the red ice from his daddy, once he’d torn open the packet. “Thank you, Daddy,” he replied, first sucking on the ice and then biting a chunk off to chew. He wasn’t exactly hungry just yet, but his stomach was feeling hollow, and hopefully this would fill him up a little. Once he’d sucked and squeezed the last few drips of cherry from the packet, he handed it back to his daddy and took the grape one. It wasn’t quite as good at the cherry, but it was still tasty. 

When he’d finished both popsicles, he sighed and arched his back in a stretch before he snuggled back into the pillows and rolled onto his side towards his daddy. He purred when he felt Daddy drop his fingers to comb through Bucky’s hair, painlessly detangling the snags and gently scraping his blunt fingers against Bucky’s scalp.

“Go back to sleep, now, Buck,” he heard Daddy say, and he nodded, pressing his head against his Daddy’s thick thigh as the gentle petting pushed him into slumber once more.

 

~ X ~

 

When Bucky next woke, it was because he was wet. For a second, his heart jumped into his throat, fearing that maybe he’d done something unthinkable in his sleep, but then Bucky Bear reminded him that the cramping had always woken him before and this was far more likely to be his usual issue.

“Daddy,” he said quietly, tugging his daddy’s arm to catch his attention.

“What’s up, Buck?” his daddy asked, looking down. 

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” Bucky explained, wriggling slightly as the wet pull-up clung to his skin. He felt himself blushing and his eyes darted around guiltily. 

“Okay, Buck,” Daddy said, with a small, puzzled glance, and he stood, grabbing the IV bag and lifting Bucky onto his hip, his arm tucked under his butt. Bucky buried his face into his daddy’s neck as the wet, puffy padding squished and, unbeknownst to him, his daddy’s expression cleared as understanding dawned on him. “You’re okay, buddy,” he whispered against Bucky’s ear and Bucky had to bite his lip to stop it trembling. It wasn’t until his daddy had shut the bathroom door and set Bucky carefully on the closed lid of the toilet that he spoke.

“M’sorry, Daddy, it was an accident, I didn’t know I had to go, I promise...” he whispered, twisting his fingers into the hem of his top. Daddy set his hand over Bucky’s and shushed him.

“Bucky, stop. It’s alright. This happens all the time. You don’t need to apologise, remember? It’s not your fault and I’m not mad, let’s just get you sorted out, okay?” Daddy said quietly. 

Bucky nodded jerkily and started pushing off his shorts as Daddy ran hot water into the sink and soaked a washcloth in readiness. Slowly, his daddy helped him to stand, tearing the pull-up away from Bucky’s hips and turning to dispose of it into the appropriate receptacle. Bucky couldn’t help the embarrassment that stained his chest and cheeks red as he stood there, naked from the waist down. When his daddy held out the washcloth, Bucky took it and started scrubbing at his skin. He wished he could take a shower but he was already starting to feel a bit weak from standing, so he did his best with the cloth. His daddy, meanwhile, had placed a towel over the toilet lid, and nudged him to sit down once he’s wiped himself all over and passed him a second towel to dry himself. 

“Do you need to go the bathroom while you’re here?” Daddy asked quietly, and Bucky shook his head no before pausing and reconsidering. 

“Maybe? I should probably try,” he admitted and Daddy nodded, slinging his arm around Bucky and lifting him far enough to pull the towel away and lift the toilet lid before letting him back down. While his daddy busied himself putting the towels and washcloth into the hamper, and fetching a fresh pull-up, Bucky ensured that his bladder was completely empty. He’d just have to wait and see what his guts decided to do on their own schedule. Flushing the toilet, he took the pull-up from his daddy and quickly wriggled it over his feet, followed by his shorts, and finished dressing and washing up.

“C’mon Buck. Let’s have a quick drink and then maybe some more sleep. How does that sound?” Daddy said, settling him back on his hip and opening the bathroom door. Bucky nodded, resting his head on his daddy’s shoulder. It was late, and he was tired already. 

“Alright there, boys?” Maggie asked as Daddy lay Bucky down in the bed once more. Bucky turned his face away, embarrassed. 

“Just needed to pee, huh, Buck?” Daddy answered, giving a weighted look to Maggie who nodded that she understood. Instead of answering, Bucky let his daddy tuck the Safety Towel around him, even though he no longer really felt sick. He hadn’t felt like he was going to throw up until seconds before he had that morning, so the towel was staying. Just in case. 

“Well, that’s good news,” Maggie explained. “It means that you’re hydrated enough for your kidneys to start sparing some water again. That means, hopefully, once this bag is finished, then we’ll be done with the IV,” 

Bucky glanced up. The bag had obviously been changed while he slept, once again, because when he’d had the popsicles it was mostly empty. Now, it was at least half full. 

“What time is it?” Bucky asked.

“Twenty past eleven,” his daddy replied, glancing at his watch.

Maggie shifted and picked up a familiar red and white packet. “How about you try a couple of Tylenol and a quick drink, and then you settle down for some more sleep, Bucky?” she suggested. 

Bucky nodded. He was starting to feel a little bit achy and chilled again, so it sounded like a good idea. Maggie passed him a couple of tablets, and Bucky propped himself up on his metal elbow to swallow them with the last few mouthfuls of the Pedialyte. 

“C’n I have the raspberry drink next please, Daddy?” Bucky asked tiredly, letting himself fall back onto his side and pulling the towel up in front of his face. He was pretty sure that those tablets, being the first solid thing he’d swallowed since breakfast, were going to reappear at any moment, and he didn’t want to risk throwing up over his pillow without warning. 

Steve and Maggie both caught the movement and shared a glance. If Bucky was allowed to brood, he’d quite possibly worry himself into a panic and vomit, even without the stomach virus.

“Tell you what, Steve, why don’t you read to Bucky a little before he goes to sleep, and I’ll fetch the Pedialyte. It’s in the fridge?” Maggie asked. Steve nodded, relieved, and, rather than continuing with Harry Potter, he leant over to pull Bucky’s book of fairy tales from the the nearby bookshelf instead. Flipping through, he stopped at a random story and began to read.

_ “Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing...”   _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science Bits
> 
> Yes, Maggie's husband is called **Earl Grey**. Though that's only because he took the surname of his stepfather. The **parrot** that scared her to death was actually a [Hyacinth Macaw](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyacinth_macaw), which is the **largest known macaw, the longest parrot and the heaviest flying parrot**! Considering that they can break open the shells of **brazil nuts** with their beak, it's hardly surprising she was a little nervous of a temperamental bird with the **intelligence of a 4 year old**. **Turtles and terrapins** can also be dangerous. Some of the larger ones can easily take off **fingers** with their beaks, too. If you plan to keep either as a pet, you need to be **very aware** of their needs, lifespan, size and how to protect them and yourself (as with all pets). 
> 
> So that's where the **story name** came from! There are a whole different bunch of **serotypes** (slightly different strains) of noroviruses, not all of which **affect humans**. But the one most usually responsible for outbreaks/epidemics - especially among adults - is **GII.4**. 
> 
> Sadly **Phenergan** doesn't ACTUALLY exist in an **orodispersable** form (although you could probably have it made in a compounding pharmacy in the US). In the UK, however, we did have (until last year) an orodispersable version of another antinausea/prokinetic drug called **domperidone** , and we also have **prochlorperazine** (Compazine in the US, Stemetil/Buccastem in the UK) which dissolves between the lip and gum. Either of which was infinitely preferable to swallowing tablets when you're very nauseated/vomiting. Orodispersable **ondansetron** (Zofran) also exists.
> 
> Bucky's very sensitive about his **bedwetting** , understandably, and always wants to **shower** after he needs to get changed, but actually **too much washing** can be harmful for delicate skin in the perineal area. Ideally, you shouldn't be washing more than **twice a day** (assuming a person is only dealing with urine) and a flannel wash with **warm** water (rather than really hot) and **without soap** is perfectly fine. Soap should **only** be used if there is fecal soiling to the skin, and even then, should be **rinsed very thoroughly**. 
> 
> Almost done now, guys. Just one chapter to go. I'll post it as soon as it's been double checked by my betas. Thanks for sticking with the ride. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks. We've finally reached the end. Once again, huge, huge thanks to my two wonderful betas, [VoiceOfNurse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiceOfNurse/) and [WhatEvenAmI](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/) for reading and fixing up over 40K words into something approaching a readable fic. You guys are incredible, and I don't know what I'd do without your support and patience. I certainly wouldn't be posting anything! Much love to both of you. xx
> 
> As always, you awesome people reading, commenting, giving kudos and generally cheering me on - as much as I enjoy writing, it's your reaction that makes me want to post and share my work with you for the first time in nearly twenty years. I'm continually astounded by the positivity from everyone, and it means the world to me. So thank you all! 
> 
> And I mustn't forget the amazing [Lauralot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/) \- without whom this fic wouldn't even exist (and I probably wouldn't have even started writing properly again). Your AU is bloody brilliant, even if it's based on a concept that I would never normally have even read, let alone got so lost inside. But here I am, building slightly wonky castles in your sandbox, and I thank you for not only letting me play but making me feel so welcome.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Not many. A bit of angst (it's Bucky) but nothing huge. Only a teensy bit of grossness, but that's about it. :)  
>     
> 

 

Bucky didn’t throw up the Tylenol. By the time Maggie had returned with the vivid blue bottle of electrolytes and water, Bucky was already mostly asleep, and once his breathing had evened out and slowed, Maggie and Steve planned when he should take his next medication, and asked JARVIS to set up reminders. Not long after midnight, the last bag of IV fluids had finished running and Maggie quietly detached the set from Bucky’s arm and looked at the cannula sites to ensure they weren’t inflamed. Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise when Bucky didn’t even stir. He knew that Bucky must have been absolutely wrecked to sleep through somebody touching him. 

At half past twelve, Steve stirred Bucky just enough to get him to take a couple more Phenergan tablets to keep the vomiting at bay, and half a glass of Pedialyte. Bucky was back asleep within a minute, never properly waking. Quietly, Steve offered Maggie a hand to help her stand, which she gratefully took, and lifted the tray - now mostly empty packets - and the plastic bag filled with empty IVs, as all three of them left the room. Horatio pulled the door almost closed, and they retreated to the kitchen. Maggie carefully wrapped everything for correct disposal as she spoke.

“I think I can probably leave you now. There are still a bunch of supplies in the communal kitchen area, but I can drop them off on my way out.” she explained. “I’ll leave the cannulas in for now and I can pop back tomorrow morning and remove them if Bucky’s doing well,”

“Oh, you’re more than welcome to stay if you want to,” Steve offered. “You’ve been so kind, it’s really late, and I won’t be using my room tonight anyway,” 

Maggie smiled but shook her head. “Thanks, but I should probably rescue my husband from the horror of small girls having a sleepover. They’re probably still up, on a sugar high from too much candy, and are now using him as a make up model. But call me if Bucky worsens again, whatever the time,” 

Steve nodded, bemused at the mental image, then looked over towards Horatio as he spoke.

“Tony’s offered me a room overnight, so I’ll be here. Hopefully, he’ll sleep through now, barring taking medication and fluids, but let me know if there are any changes and I’ll help as much as Bucky will allow me to,”

Steve swallowed, his emotions once more threatening to overwhelm him. Before speaking, he cleared his throat, hoping that his voice would be steady.

“Thank you, both of you. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without you today. I’m so grateful for your help,” Steve reached to shake Horatio’s hand, then looked at Maggie. 

“Don’t you dare,” she warned him, putting her arms around him. “I’m a hugger. Get used to it!”

Steve laughed, his throat thick with thankful tears that he was determined not to shed, and hugged her tight. 

“JARVIS, can you fetch Tony to show Dr. Castle to his room, please? I’ll send him and Maggie both down to the common area.” Steve said.

“Certainly Captain. I shall inform Sir now,” the AI replied. 

Steve escorted them both to the elevator, waiting while Maggie collected her things and dropped off the last of the medical supplies to Steve and Bucky’s floor. He shifted them out of the elevator, leaving them in the corridor against the wall, and promised that he’d tell Tony to deep clean the living areas and the elevators to try and limit the outbreak. 

Finally, it was just him and Bucky. He quickly popped into his bathroom to have a speed wash and brush his teeth, before changing. As he pushed his legs into his pyjama pants, he realised that he’d finally found a use for the seemingly pointless pockets - I mean, who needs pockets in nightwear? At least now, he could keep his phone resting against his hip bone and JARVIS could wake him with a silent, vibrating alert, without disturbing Bucky more than necessary. 

Tugging an old, grey t-shirt over his head, he dragged the comforter from his bed before crossing the corridor to Bucky’s room. Silently, he replaced the desk chair that Horatio had been sitting on and lifted the arm chair by the window next to the bed. After dimming the wall light to its minimum, he settled into the chair, throwing the comforter over himself. JARVIS would wake him when it was time to give Bucky his next dose of medication, and until then, he might as well try and get a little sleep himself. 

 

~ X ~

 

“Daddy...?” 

Steve startled to wakefulness and shot forwards to the edge of the chair, the comforter falling from his shoulders to his knees.

“Buck? Y’okay?” he asked, blinking, Bucky nodded and Steve relaxed back into the chair. Bucky was sitting upright, his legs crossed in front of him tailor style, with Bucky Bear in his lap.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m kind of hungry though. Could I have something to eat please? I know it’s not breakfast time yet but...” Bucky explained, a little anxiously. Steve broke in before Bucky could work up a full head of anxiously apologetic steam.

“What time is is?” he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket.

5:27am. 

Steve groaned internally. Even though he didn’t need a lot of sleep himself, as a side effect of the serum, he’d been awake giving Bucky medication every couple of hours (and, he was loathe to admit, hovering anxiously) since midnight, and after yesterday, he really wished he could just have a few hours off. Instead he stood up and stretched.

“We have some saltines in the pantry. Try a couple of those first. If you’re okay, then you can have something more substantial later, alright?” Steve said, and Bucky nodded. Bucky Bear had suggested the same thing when he’d woken up with his stomach growling from hunger instead of cramps. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Bucky said, taking the crackers from his daddy once he returned and nibbled on the corner while watching his daddy settle onto the edge of the bed with him. 

“How’s Bucky Bear feeling now?” Daddy asked, and Bucky swallowed. The saltine was making him thirsty so he reached for the glass on the bedside cabinet and took a sip before answering.

“He’s much better. He says his Bearlly Ache is gone now,” 

“Well that’s good then,” Daddy said, smiling despite his tiredness. “At least we don’t need to worry about his tummy now,” 

Bucky nodded, working his way through the flaky crackers and a glass of vivid blue raspberry Pedialyte. By the time he’d finished licking the salt from his fingers, he was starting to feel the need to relieve himself. All that fluid finally seemed to be making its way through his system by the usual route. Setting his glass down, he flipped back the comforter. His daddy darted to his feet, reaching towards him.

“I’m okay Daddy,” Bucky said quickly. “I think I can walk to the bathroom now,”

Daddy stared at him thoughtfully and then nodded. “I’ll walk with you this time. Just in case your legs get tired again,” he said, and Bucky nodded, dropping his feet to the carpet. Standing, it took him a moment to completely stabilise himself, one hand still resting lightly against the mattress, before he stepped away from the bed. His daddy walked beside him, and a step behind, ready to catch him if he fell, but Bucky made it all the way to the bathroom door, albeit he was grasping onto the door frame slightly harder than normal. It had still been rather exhausting, but he’d made it. 

“I can do it from here,” Bucky insisted, glancing over his shoulder and his daddy nodded. 

“I’ll wait here. Just shout if you need me, alright?” Daddy said, with a tired smile, and Bucky nodded, making his slightly shaky way further into the room as his daddy pulled the door shut behind him. Bucky tugged his clothes down and sat gratefully. Truthfully, the walk had been harder than he had thought it would be, but at least he’d managed it. Normally he’d just have peed standing up, but right now, he figured that sitting was probably safer all round. When he was finished dressing and washing up, he opened the bathroom door and his daddy was right there. His knees were starting to feel a bit soft, so he grabbed hold of his daddy’s arm as he made his way back to bed. He tumbled back into the pillows with a tired but satisfied smile. 

“Need any medicine for your tummy, buddy?” Daddy asked, and Bucky forced his eyes open.

“Nuh-huh,” he replied with a shake of his head. When his daddy raised his eyebrows questioningly, Bucky sighed. “I only had to pee, Daddy.”

This time, his daddy nodded, tucking Bucky back in with Bucky Bear and his Safety Towel. 

“You need to take some more medicine in three quarters of an hour. Try and get some more sleep,” Daddy said and Bucky nodded, his eyelids already drooping. He felt a hand brush over his hair and nuzzled into it, before the bed shifted as his daddy returned to the chair. Sleep still sounded like an amazing plan.

 

~ X ~

 

When JARVIS announced that Maggie had returned to the tower and was on her way up to the apartment once more, Bucky’s room had been a vomit free area for nearly twelve hours, thanks to the medication, and Bucky was slowly working his way through a couple of pieces of toast. Thankfully the saltines had stayed down quite comfortably, and Steve had even let him snack on a few more until he’d managed to catch a couple of extra hours of sleep. When it had been time for his last dose of Tylenol, Bucky had said he wasn’t feeling shivery or achy and his headache hadn’t returned. He’d double checked his temperature - and this time, the thermometer hadn’t made Bucky retch - and it had also been normal, so Steve had skipped them. Hopefully that meant that Bucky’s body had finally cleared the vicious virus out of his system. 

Maggie came straight to Steve and Bucky’s floor this time, after Steve had given JARVIS permission. Today, along with the purple medical gloves and teddy bear surgical mask, she wore a long sleeved red and white baseball t-shirt and a red peasant skirt with intricate gold embroidery. Her hijab was in negative, gold with red patterning. Steve was very glad that he’d asked JARVIS to bring her straight to his floor. If Tony saw her outfit, then his ego would never fit through the door, even if the colour scheme she had chosen was purely coincidental. 

After a quick chat with Bucky and looking over his basic stats, she pronounced him well enough to have his IV cannulas removed. The process had taken a while longer than normal. Bucky was more coherent now, and proportionally more concerned about it hurting. Maggie let him slowly peel back the adhesive film dressings holding the cannulas in place, but then recommended that he look away. There would be a little spot of blood, and nobody wanted him to start throwing up again from the sight. Bucky firmly agreed with that sentiment and allowed Bucky Bear and Steve to make sure nothing bad happened. Apart from a small tug, he turned back to find that the only thing visible was two folded pieces of gauze that Steve was holding to his forearm where the cannulas had been a moment before. After a minute, Maggie peeped underneath and carefully disposed of the gauze, placing a couple of minions Band-Aids onto the tiny puncture wounds. Then the discussion turned to his other medications.

“As his fever hasn’t returned, you can probably stop the Phenergan now. Hopefully the nausea and vomiting with have stopped by now,“ Maggie suggested. Steve nodded, but a quick glance at Bucky showed that he was far from convinced.  “You aren’t sure though, Bucky?” 

Bucky shook his head no, very vehemently. Both he and Bucky Bear were very firmly of the opinion that yesterday had been a horrible, horrible day, and he didn’t want to throw up ever again. “I don’t want to. I’ll be sick again and I don’t want to, I can’t, I can’t...”

“Woah, Bucky... Buck...” Steve interrupted his panicky rant. “Stop a minute and breathe with me okay?” 

Bucky nodded, mimicking his daddy’s breathing, until his heart rate approached normal. 

“I know you’re worried, Bucky, but you can’t stay on this medicine forever,” Maggie reasoned. “This virus only lasts two or three days in unenhanced humans. With your immune system, you’re probably over pretty much all of the effects by now. And I know you’re feeling tired and a bit wobbly on your feet...” Bucky glared at his daddy for a moment, but he held his hands up placatingly.

“Not me, Bucky. I didn’t say anything. She probably already knows this from work,” Daddy explained, and Maggie nodded in confirmation.

“Indeed. It’s a heavy duty medication and it’s going to make you feel funny on its own. You’ll probably feel much better if you lie down for a while, try and have a nice long nap now you’ve finished breakfast, and see how you are. If you start to feel nauseated again, then your daddy can give you some medicine then,” she suggested.

“But I  **do** feel sick. Right now!” Bucky insisted, his lip sticking out in a pout, and Steve had to bite his cheek to not upset Bucky further by laughing.

“Are you really, Bucky? Or are you just afraid that you will and scared to try, just in case?” Maggie asked, gently, and Bucky dropped his eyes to stare at his lap, all traces of defiance leaking away from his posture.

“M’sorry,” he murmured after a moment. “That was a lie. That’s bad. You can punish me now. I don’t really feel sick right now,”

Steve felt his chest ache a little at Bucky’s admission.

“It’s alright this time, Bucky. I know that you’re scared and you’ve been really sick. But please don’t tell untruths about your health, okay, buddy?” he said, reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky nodded and sniffed, determined that he wasn’t going to cry yet again.

“M’sorry, Maggie. It was bad to lie. I just don’ wanna get sick and make a mess and feel like I did yesterday again,” Bucky admitted, flicking a glance up towards Maggie to see how angry and disappointed she was. Instead, she just smiled benignly at him, and reached out to take his hand in hers. 

“It’s okay, Bucky. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of people tell me much bigger fibs about their health and for much less reason than that,” Maggie explained. “I know you’re worried, because you felt really, really bad yesterday, but now that your daddy has the medicine here, you shouldn’t get to that stage again, even if you are still sick. And if the tablets don’t work, I can always pop back to see you again,”

Eventually, reluctantly, Bucky nodded in agreement. 

“I still need my towel though,” he said, pulling it into his lap almost possessively. “And the bowl,”

“Of course, Buck,” Steve agreed. A tired, anxious, fractious Bucky in his little headspace was both trying and somehow adorable. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Maggie, then I’ll tuck you in and read to you a bit, then we can both try and get some sleep. How does that sound?”

Bucky nodded, saying farewell and thank you to his friend, and Steve showed her to the elevator. 

“I’m sorry about Buck. He’s just tired and scared...” Steve apologised, but Maggie hushed him.

“Honestly, Steve, I meant what I said. He’s been so brave throughout all of this, and really was very poorly. He should ideally have been in hospital, but thankfully we managed to control his symptoms here. I’ve seen plenty of adults behave far more inappropriately and with far less justification for their behaviour. It’s fine, and I certainly don’t hold it against him. Besides,” she added, her eyes glinting in amusement, “when this went through my family a few months ago, my daughter would insist that she had a tummy ache whenever she didn’t want to do something for over a week after she recovered. I wouldn’t worry about it,”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you so much for everything, once again. Hopefully the next time you’ll be hearing from one of us is when he’s messaging you to say he’s back to normal,”

Maggie smiled and pulled Steve down into a warm hug. “It was no problem. Let me know how he is this evening, alright?” He nodded into her shoulder, patting her back before stepping away. The elevator doors opened a moment later. 

“Talk to you later,” Steve said with a smile, watching the doors close and heading back to Bucky’s room.

Bucky was lying back against the pillows stiffly, gritting his teeth in expectation of punishment now that Maggie had left. Instead, his daddy just settled him down, passing Bucky Bear to him and tucking the Safety Towel once more under his chin and along his front. 

“I’m not going to punish you, Bucky,” his daddy said quietly, and Bucky jumped. He was  _ certain  _ that his daddy could read his mind, regardless of what his therapists told him. “Now relax, and let’s read another fairy tale before we catch up on some sleep, alright?”

Bucky reached up with his right arm and pulled his daddy down for a hug. It had been a long couple of days, and he was just glad that things seemed to be almost over. Hopefully when he woke, he’d be back to normal. Or at least close to it.  He loosened his grip around his daddy’s neck, his metal thumb surreptitiously drifting into his mouth as his daddy settled next to him on the bed and flipped open the book. 

_ “Long ago, in a cottage on the edge of a dark wood, two children were busy doing boring jobs. Hansel was making a broom for their father to sell. Gretel was patching up the holes in some old socks.” _

 

~ X ~

 

The rest of the day proved uneventful. Bucky and Steve both felt much better after a good five hours of unbroken sleep and Bucky was now strong enough to be taking himself to the bathroom unaided. He’d gradually eaten more, starting with chicken noodle soup and crackers, applesauce, and he’d even managed some chicken and rice at dinner without thinking about if it would make him ill again. He’d had a brief moment of awareness and utter mortification in his adult headspace shortly before dinnertime, half awake in front of the television while sprawled on the couch, and had apologised profusely and repeatedly until Steve had eventually called him a dumb jerk and told him to shut his mouth before Steve did it for him. When Steve had finally woken him with his meal, Bucky was back to being little again. The cramps and nausea, thankfully, had stayed away without further medication and after a full night’s sleep for both of them, in their own beds, Bucky was virtually back to normal. 

JARVIS announcing the arrival of a small gift bag in the elevator just as they finished breakfast had puzzled both Steve and Bucky. Steve wandered over to the open door, and bent over to rescue the bag. The tag bore Bucky’s name, along with the inscription “At least this one won’t multiply” in Tony’s scrappy scrawl. Wordlessly, he walked back to the table and handed it over to Bucky. He stared, the concentration line forming between his eyes as he sounded out the words to himself quietly, then peeled back the adhesive tape closing the bag with his right thumbnail. 

Looking inside, all he could see at first was a pile of steely grey fluff. He reached inside and carefully withdrew the  [ plushie ](http://www.giantmicrobes.com/products/norovirus.html) , before staring at it, nonplussed. It was a rounded cube, the corners crimped into ear shapes, and a pair of yellow eyes looking out from the furry fabric. Steve, catching sight of the label, groaned. 

“God, Tony!” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Daddy?” Bucky asked, confused.

Steve looked down at Bucky, and forced a smile, even though he wanted to smack Tony across the back of the head right about now.

“It’s a giant stuffy model of the bug that made you sick, Bucky. I guess...” he paused, trying to figure out how to justify the toy to him.

“That’s brilliant, Daddy!” Bucky cried out, breaking into a huge grin. “Now the Bearvengers can go on a mission to get rid of the evil Bearlly Ache Bug!”

Steve smiled back, relieved that Bucky had taken it so well. “Exactly, Bucky. Why don’t you go set things up, while I finish sorting the dishes, huh?” 

Bucky pushed his chair back and headed to his room as Steve shook his head. Steve left it to JARVIS to pass on his thoughts on the gift to Tony and finished stacking the dishwasher.

Because of the highly infectious nature of norovirus, Bucky and Steve were both confined to their quarters until Bucky had been symptom free for at least 48 hours. Once the Bearvengers had thwarted the Evil Bearlly Ache Bug, they planned thank you presents for Pepper, Tony, Maggie and Dr. Castle. Bucky insisted on drawing them all cards until his daddy had explained that they wouldn’t be able to send them unless he waited to draw them for another couple of days. So instead, they arranged for their presents to be delivered. They decided on a big box of Pepper’s favourite organic candy, hand-made to order and some soapstone cooling rocks for Tony, so that he could enjoy his thirty year old single malt without the ice diluting it as it melted. They struggled a bit more to decide what to get Dr. Castle, because neither one of them really knew him, but when Bucky had caught sight of a teddy wearing surgical scrubs, he insisted that was the right gift. 

When it came to Maggie’s present, Bucky already knew what he wanted to get her, but he needed to speak to Tony first. Tony agreed that it was something that he could do and so, with his daddy’s help, Bucky created a gift certificate that entitled her to a new, Stark prosthetic leg. When Steve had raised his eyebrow at Tony’s promise to post it that day, Tony had printed it out, and held it up to the camera for Bucky to check. Only when Bucky was happy did he proceed to neatly fold it inside a Stark Industries envelope and wrote her address on the front, handing it to DUM-E to place into his outgoing mail tray.

The other members of the team had all chatted to Bucky and Steve during their brief sequestration, via JARVIS’ holoprojection screens, and a quick word with JARVIS had ensured that a beautifully wrapped package containing the latest Lego Avengers set that Bucky had been trying for had arrived just as they finished breakfast on the last day of their isolation. 

As a result, Bucky was busy sorting the Lego pieces into colours and shapes, and neither he nor Steve were around to see Tony bragging to the others over breakfast that Bucky’s friend had turned up to the tower, the morning after meeting him, wearing Iron Man’s colours from head to toe. They also missed the moment when Tony, partway through boosting his own ego, had paused, swallowing hard as the colour faded from his face, before hurling himself at the kitchen sink and vomiting up his three coffees and breakfast muffin in a very undignified display. This was followed shortly after by Clint and Natasha vanishing through the nearest door and Pepper rolling her eyes with a sigh as she walked over to rub her boyfriend’s back.

By the time Bruce returned from his sojourn with Thor, the only people waiting in the communal kitchen to welcome him back were Steve and a hugely guilt-ridden Bucky, as - one by one - the rest of the residents, and more than a few employees, had dropped like flies. The only person who escaped, besides Steve and Bruce with their enhanced biology, was Pepper; apparently, she just was naturally resistant to the virus. Bucky Bear suggested that was probably very lucky, considering that she’d cleaned up after him when he was sick, and Bucky agreed.

It was a very,  **very** long couple of weeks in Avengers Towers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Ever Science Bits
> 
> So first off, I have to give credit to **Lauralot** for the **Giant Microbe**. While I have a small collection of these beasties, it was her idea that Tony would probably think it typical for Tony to send one to Bucky; thankfully, Bucky took it better than Steve did! It's worth having a look at their site, they have all manner of things turned into stuffie form!
> 
>  **Saltines** or other plain, dry crackers, are generally quite easy on the stomach of someone who has been vomiting, and also help replace lost **sodium**. Other **good options** are **plain toast, plain rice, applesauce or bananas**. Bananas also replace lost **potassium** , as well as can help slow **diarrhoea** as well. Once the person can tolerate **liquids** , such as **Pedialyte, jello, tea or coffee without milk, clear soups** and so on, these are good starting options. If vomiting **returns** , then take a step back for a little longer, and try again. Whatever happens, however, **always keep drinking**. If you are **only suffering diarrhoea** , there is **no good reason** not to eat - it's important to keep your strength up and won't usually help to speed up your recovery time if you starve yourself. 
> 
> As good as **Phenergan** (and many other) **antiemetic** (anti-sickness) drugs are, they tend to cause a lot of problems with **drowsiness** and - particularly with Phenergan and **Compazine** \- **balance issues, movement problems** and so on. As a result, being on them any length of time can be unpleasant because they can make it very difficult to do normal day to day activities. This would be especially true with the other medication that Bucky is taking to manage his mental health issues here. 
> 
> I've been desperate to have **Tony make a prosthetic limb for Maggie** ever since Bucky became **interested** in that concept and had Tony make one for one of his relatives. Because of where Maggie's leg was damaged, it makes it quite hard to get a decent fit, as well as being difficult and painful to get around, even with the best prosthetic legs on the market. Hopefully, **StarkTech** will greatly help her get around more comfortably. And I do plan to **cover this** in the future. :)
> 
> Poor **Pepper**! Luckily for her, she's naturally immune. And **poor Bucky** , he's going to feel terribly guilty for a while about this, even though it's totally **not his fault**. 
> 
> And that's it. Thank you all for sticking with me to the end!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: 
> 
> Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me. The characters of Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts, JARVIS, Bruce Banner and Thor belong to Marvel. The AU that this fic plays in belongs to Lauralot. Bucky Bear belongs to himself because he is a highly trained operative, and a very clever bear (but also Lauralot... Just don't tell him). Maggie Grey and Horatio Castle belong to VoiceOfNurse.
> 
> No profit is being made from this, nor is any infringement or offence intended. Any relation or similarity to real situations is purely coincidental.
> 
> Please don't sue me. I'm poor.


End file.
